


Fear the Walking Hundred

by HopeInHandfuls



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The 100
Genre: F/F, The 100 - Freeform, fear the walking dead, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeInHandfuls/pseuds/HopeInHandfuls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a crossover between the 100 and Fear the Walking Dead. The setting takes place in the FTWD world but there will be a rather extensive mix, and it will focus on the relationship between Clarke, and Alicia. </p><p>The apocalypse is here. And who would have guessed it? Alicia has always been carefree, with little else to worry about other than her social status, but when her world is torn apart, she finds solace in the form of a blonde intellectual by the name of Clarke Griffin. The two of them decide they both make quite the team, and decide to battle the madness together, one walker at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1+1 = 2

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware the title of this entire work is hella obvious, but truth be told I'm incredibly lazy and hey, sometimes cliche works? Right? Possibly not in this case. *cough* moving on!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr if you wish! It's 'ignitemygasoline'

Alicia awoke to a buzzing in her head and a dryness in her throat. She turned over, grabbed her phone, and disabled the alarm. She checked her messages.

 **Matt:** _need a lift to school?_

She wiped the sleep from her eyes, and took a sip of water from the glass she had placed on her nightstand the evening before. It was warm, but it quenched her thirst nonetheless. Once she felt slightly human again, she replied.

 **Alicia:** _My mom is taking me, thanks though. I'll see you soon. x_

She became suddenly aware of the time, if her mom was going to take her to school, she would certainly need to get moving. She had always refused to leave the house without showering, without making sure her makeup was pristine, that her outfit matched and her skin had a certain soft glow to it.

Alicia had never considered herself beautiful by any means, but she couldn't deny she did get a lot of attention from both males and females.

She placed a hand underneath the shower, checking the temperature of the water. It wasn't perfect but she no longer had the time to adjust such a small error. She removed her pajama pants and stepped in.

After 20 minutes, she figured it was time to get out. For many, 20 minutes was a rather average shower, possibly even a long one, but to Alicia, it was a rush, and if she had the time, she could have spent at least double the time in its warmth. 

But alas, school was apparently more important than ensuring maximum cleanliness. 

One more year. Just one more year and she would be free to do as she pleased.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice making its way down the hallway outside her bedroom.

"Alicia! Alicia hurry up! You've got five more minutes." 

Before she could even respond, her mother opened the door. 

"Did I say come in? Jesus mom!"

Her mother had always done that. She rarely knocked, which was yet another reason why she simply couldn't wait to go to college. She liked her privacy.

And because of this small factor, once her mother had left, she decided to dress slower, take her time, let her mother wait. Serves her right for not knocking.

The house phone was ringing as she made her way downstairs, she was starving, so if her mom or Trevor didn't answer, she certainly wasn't going to. She didn't have time to talk to grandma or discuss the economy with her uncle. Instead, food seemed like the priority.

These things aside, the phone was answered, and the conversation seemed less than pleasant. Alicia had always had a talent for reading peoples faces, and her mothers face screamed "oh good lord." 

It soon became apparent that it was to do with her brother, Nick. He was always getting himself into trouble, and this was not news by any means, it was merely habit, and the two of them were basically polar opposites. She loved him regardless, it came naturally to her of course, he was family. But she could never shake the feeling that he was jealous of how she was succeeding, and he was not.

"We have to go to the hospital." Her mother said, her voice urgent.

Breakfast would have to wait.

                                                                                                              * * *

When Alicia finally arrived at school, she had already missed first period. The fact that her brother had overdosed and gone crazy was a rather good reason for absence, though, so she figured it didn't matter. After all, Matt had told her countless times that she might as well teach the class. 

And she could, if given the opportunity.

The thing about Alicia was this, she was writhing with potential. Enthusiasm. Gold. Her life would be adventure, an exploration of the deepest of minds. And she was fortunate. Very fortunate indeed to have life in her grasp and have both wanting hands grabbing onto it.

Her next class was Math. She would have preferred to be absent in this period, but alas, the odds were not in her favor today. 

She couldn't quite comprehend the subject, it had always baffled her. What baffled her more was the fact that she excelled in practically everything. But Math? Not so much. She would ask Matt for help, or one of her friends, she was rather popular after all, but they seemed just as confused by the topic as she did. Besides, they were all in different classes. 

She took a seat close to the back, and pulled out her phone. 

A viral video had found its way on her social media, and she decided to open it up. After all, watching videos was all she did in this class. She probably couldn't even name one person in this room except for the teacher. Her mother had said maybe she would understand math more if she actually paid attention. But the truth was, she didn't pay attention because she simply didn't understand math.

She grimaced at her phone screen. In front of her was a mutilated man, but he was still alive. So very alive. But he looked so dead. So very dead.

"You know, you might want to pay attention in this class today, I hear Mr Duncan is going to tell us what sort of questions he's going to give us for the upcoming exam." 

That was odd. Was someone talking to her? The voice was foreign, but rather musical.

She edged her view astray from the phone, and onto the blonde girl before her in the seat beside.

"Huh?" Alicia responded, confused. The girl was beautiful, she thought. 

"I don't mean to be rude, it's just, when Mr Duncan asks you questions, you never seem to know the answers, so I just thought I'd tear you away from your little zombie movie for just a moment. Take it from the math nerd." 

This girl was helping her, and that was nice, she supposed, but she also came off as a little arrogant. Talking to a pretty girl was hardly the worst thing that could happen to her today though, so she decided to respond.

"It's not a movie, it's real, it's been on the news." Great, she sounded so terribly stupid, she thought. Did it matter, though? Did she want to impress this girl? She was unsure. She certainly was attractive, it seemed hardly unreal that she hadn't noticed her before. Then again, she didn't really notice anyone she wasn't already close to. She wondered how she made friends in the first place with that attitude.

"If you believe it, perhaps you shouldn't be in this class. Look, I have notes if you want to take a look at them, I'm happy to..." 

"Alicia, Clarke, do I have to sit the two of you apart? I won't tell you again." Mr Duncan interrupted.

"Why did he just say my name?" Alicia asked. "You were talking too."

"He didn't, he said Alicia, and Clarke, god, you are distracted, aren't you?" The blonde smirked.

"Wait, your names Clarke?"

"Last time I checked" This girl was sarcastic.

"My name is Alicia Clark, hence the confusion." For the first time Alicia smiled back. 

"Well Miss Clark, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, now, as I was saying, care for some help from the math master?"

"I think I'd like that." Alicia replied, thinking more of talking to this girl about whatever than silly math problems. 

Alicia switched off the viral video, and placed her phone in her pocket, choosing instead to place all of her attention on her new found interest.

 


	2. You Better Be Dead

Alicia spent the entirity of the day smiling to herself, filled with adrenaline. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel guilty though, she was taken after all. But she'd also be lying if she said that her relationship with Matt wasn't purely circumstantial.

They had simply both been in the same place at the same time, not just in the environmental sense, but at the same point in their lives where they knew what they wanted but didn't quite understand what it was just yet.

These things aside, she was not being unfaithful. She had simply made a new friend. The fact that this friend was incredibly beautiful was irrelevent. Besides, Matt had beautiful friends too. Granted, none of them were as radiant as this Clarke, but that was subject to opinion.

When she saw him next, he began drawing something she couldn't quite make out right away on her arm. He was comfortable, as was she. Regardless of the reason this relationship had formed, the one thing she could say without doubt was that the two of them simply lived in each others breathing space, and were grateful for such company.  
Plus, he always seemed to care about her current affairs, and she had to admit, she couldn't fault him, and as if on cue, he delivered.

"He doing better?"

"Better than he was 48 hours ago? Sure. Better than he'll be two days after he's released?"

Silence.

Matt paused.

"It's not on you, Alicia."

She knew this to be true, it wasn't her fault. But that didn't necessarily mean that she could have been there for Nick in other ways than she currently was. She hadn't been the sister he needed. And she knew that even if she was sister of the year, it wouldn't change the turmoil he was in, but it was something. And to the desperate, something meant everything.

Matt finished up his drawing, which Alicia discovered in the end was a rose, a strange one, and she thought about how it reminded her of The Nightmare Before Christmas. One of her favourite movies.

Before they parted ways, Matt attempted to kiss her, though Alicia halted. She didn't know what possessed her to do so. They had been close before, intimately close, but this time felt so different. It's as if he was there, but he wasn't at the same time. She knew she was just being silly, so when he asked to meet up after school, she obliged, thinking that she could use anything right now to take her mind of the brother in the hospital bed, and the girl in the math classroom.

  
                                                                                                             * * *

It was fourth period, and yet again, she found herself staring directly into her phone, checking out the latest news on the mutilated man that didn't seem to be there when he was. A little like Matt earlier that day, she thought. Maybe Matt was mutilated on the inside. Maybe she was too.

A large part of her was hoping she would see Clarke again, but she wasn't even sure if they shared any other classes. She was certain they weren't in Spanish together, but that wasn't to say the girl didn't take Spanish, it could just mean that she was simply in a different class. And by the looks of it, she wasn't in her English class either, because there was no sign.

She felt a swell of disappointment in her chest, and a pang of guilt came along with it when she pictured Matt earlier that day, so worried about her well-being.

Alicia pushed the thought aside, like she had said before, she wasn't doing anything wrong, finding someone else attractive was completely normal, and who is to say they would ever speak again? It would be rather a shame though, as they did seem to have so much in common, and well, Alicia would feel fortunate to have her as a friend.

She was sure Matt would completely understand, and she was certain that he had also found himself in this situation before as well.

These things happened, and she was no lesser of a person for being human. And she had highly benefited from the talk with Clarke. She had taught her all the basic math elements like it was nothing, and Alicia had finally understood parts of it.

The girl was smart, very smart, and she did admire that quality in a person, very much so.

At the end of the day, Alicia made her way to the spot in which she arranged to meet Matt. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and began to text him.

 **Alicia:** _I'm here_

When there was no signs of him after five minutes, she proceeded to text again.

 **Alicia** : _Where r u?_

After ten minutes, and no text, she decided to send two more before making her leave.

 **Alicia** : _You better be dead!_

**Alicia:** _I'm leaving_

Matt never stood her up, not once, so he must have a damned good excuse, she thought. She would have to ask him later, because for now, the guy clearly wasn't checking his texts. And if he was? Well, she would definitely have to have a word with him.

She walked away with disappointment in her gut, not because Matt didn't show, but because she didn't have Clarke's number to make plans with her instead.

And the guilt began eating its way inside once more.

 


	3. Math for Dummies 101

She saw her the next day. The smart girl with the blonde hair. As it turns out, she was in her History class. Unfortunately for Alicia, she knew a lot about History, and it was in fact one of her favourite subjects, so she wouldn't be asking for help any time soon.  
  
Regardless of that fact, she had hoped she had made enough of a good impression in Math to sit beside her, and talk to her about something other than the subject at hand.  
  
She pulled out her notepad and pen, and began to write the days date when she was interrupted by the voice next to her.  
  
"So you're going to pay attention in this class, huh? Not look at your phone or stare into the void?" It was Clarke.  
  
"Maybe I'm going to do both." Alicia smirked.  
  
The girl smirked back.  
  
"So...I was thinking, if you need help with Math, outside of the classroom that is, I'd be happy to help. My teaching skills are sub-par but I'm very intellectual you know."  
  
The ego on this girl.  
  
The blonde would get nothing out of this agreement, so it baffled Alicia as to why she would even put herself out this much.  
  
"...Yeah, yeah that'd be great actually. Want to exchange numbers?"  
  
"Sounds good." Clarke replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket, which was turned off, of course it would be turned off, god forbid this girl would text in class.  
  
She turned it on, and handed it to Alicia, prompting her to insert her number into the contacts.  
  
Alicia had in fact noticed that this girl had very few numbers in her phone. She had her mother, Wells, Bellamy, Finn, Octavia, Michonne and Raven. None of these names she recognized. And no father in her phone either which struck her as odd.  
  
She typed in her digits, and handed the phone back.  
  
"You free after school? We can start today if you want." Clarke asked.  
  
"Actually I better check if Matt's ok, he didn't text me back yesterday, and he's not in school either." Alicia replied.  
  
"Oh, who...who is Matt?" The girl pushed her blonde hair out of her face in an almost embarrassed manner.  
  
"He's just my boyfriend."  
  
Just.  
  
Alicia felt it only right she bring him up in a conversation, just so the other girl didn't get the wrong idea. And by the way she responded, she clearly had.  
  
"Oh, I see, I see." She said, staring at the floor.  
  
The two of them remained in silence for just a moment before striking up a conversation about music.  
  
Their tastes somewhat differed, but it made the conversation that much more interesting. The one thing they seemed to agree on was movies.  
  
At least they had something in common.  
  
She had decided to herself that Clarke was a mesh of bright colours and light. Everything light. She was the type of girl that loved ponies as a child, and possibly still did. She was the type of girl that still kept a pencil-case when everyone else barely remembered to bring a simple pen. She was yellows, and aqua blues. Vibrant. She was light. So very light.  
  
When History came to a close, Alicia couldn't help but notice the blank page in her notebook before her. She'd been so distracted by Clarke she hadn't even written anything down.  
  
"Don't worry, I got it all, I'm a multi-tasker, I'll give you my notes when we meet up for "Math For Dummies 101."  
  
Alicia smiled, and left for her next period.  
  
She walked back from school that day. Usually she would take her bike, but she fancied the change.  
  
Before making her way home, she decided to stop by Matt's. She assured herself he was fine, most likely just under the weather, or tidying the house before his parents got home from their trip, but there was no harm in checking.  
  
The door was already open, which struck Alicia as strange. But it was nothing too out of the ordinary, so she simply invited herself in.  
  
Her gaze led astray to the broken vase on the floor. That was out of the ordinary.  
  
When she found her boyfriend, he was limp, lying in an uncomfortable position, sweat dripping from his forehead, his entire body.  
  
Just the other day he was perfectly fine, and now, she wasn't sure he would be even able to walk to bed by himself.  
  
She retrieved a cold flannel from the bathroom, and placed it on his head.  
  
Her phone began to ring in her pocket. Was Clarke calling her already?  
  
It was her mom.  
  
"Alicia, honey, where are you?"  
  
"I'm just at Matt's, he's sick and..."  
  
Her mother interrupted.  
  
"Don't touch him, did you hear me? Don't go near him. Call 911."  
  
"What? Mom, you're not making any sense. I have to go."  
  
"No, Alicia, wait..."  
  
Alicia hung up the phone.  
  
Yet another thing that had struck her as odd today. Why was her mother telling her to stay away from her own boyfriend? If he was contagious, chances are she had it already.  
  
Her phone vibrated, a text.  
  
"I swear to god..." she said aloud, assuming it was her mom once again telling her to stay away from Matt.  
  
But it was Clarke.  
  
**Unknown:** _Just checking you gave me a real number! It's Math Genius. x_  
  
Alicia smiled, and replied to the text.  
  
**Alicia:** _Wait, who are you again? ...Just kidding. Are you sure you shouldn't call yourself Huge Ego instead? x_  
  
**Math Genius:** _That's only my name on weekends. On school days I'm sticking to M.G. x_  
  
M.G, Math Genius. Alicia smirked once again, and placed the phone back into her pocket.  
  
She helped Matt into bed, replacing the flannel when necessary.  
  
It wasn't long before she heard a knock at the door, which in turn was followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. Her mom, and Travis.  
  
And suddenly they were taking over, telling her to step away from Matt. Telling her that they didn't know just how contagious it was just yet.  
  
But never telling her what 'it' actually was.  
  
Alicia left the room, leaving them to their own devices.  
  
She returned soon after, interrupting the conversation between the three of them. And when she had come back, she couldn't help but notice the wound on Matt's chest. He needed to go to the hospital. Immediately.  
  
"What are you talking about?" She asked. She had become frustrated now. They were happy to tell her what to do, take away her freedom, but they weren't happy to give her a straight answer about what was going on.  
  
"We're going to call 911 from the car." Her mom replied.  
  
"I'll wait for them here."  
  
Her mother grabbed her.  
  
"Mom what the hell are you doing?! Are you psychotic? He's sick!"  
  
She pulled away, making her way over to Matt, taking a seat beside him on the bed.  
  
"My parents are home soon, I'll be fine." He said, his voice raspy.  
  
"I'm not leaving you. I love you." Alicia replied.  
  
The words felt strung out, fake. She meant them. She truly did. But part of her felt as if she was saying them aloud simply to comfort him.  
  
She felt guilty for saying them, but she would feel guilty for not saying them. And there didn't currently feel like an appropriate balance between the two.  
  
"I love you too. That's why you gotta go, ok?"  
  
She paused, and he paused with her.  
  
"Go." He said once more.  
  
His persistence made her feel almost absolved from her duties. Almost.  
  
Regardless of that fact, she left his bedside, picked up her bag, and made her way out of the door, and into the car with Nick.  
  
And when they drove away, the guilt washed over her once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be updated again in around 2-3 days as it doesn't cover the entire episode that aired on the 30th of August. The next chapter will cover the events in the second half of that episode. I just didn't want each chapter to get too long.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Babysitter

When they arrived back at home, Alicia made her way through the door first, and up the stairs. She felt so enclosed, so unsafe. So unsure of all the events that had happened this week.  
  
And what's more Nick was suffering badly. Incredibly so. He went from drug addict to cold turkey just like that. And that's not how the recovery story goes.  
  
She acknowleged this. Life wasn't a fairytale laced with sugar and all things sweet. Life was a mesh and haze of dreams and nightmares encased into one and you couldn't pick and mix the good parts.  
  
And when she thought of that video of the mutilated man, she had decided that all his dreams had faded, and all that was left were nightmares.  
  
She wouldn't cry. For loss was a natural thing, and she hadn't lost him. She wouldn't even cry for the family he was bound to. And she wouldn't cry for Matt either, despite her guilt that had led her to believe she should.  
  
She would cry for herself.  
  
When she finally composed herself, she picked up her phone and dialled Clarke before she could even think about changing her mind.  
  
"Clarke?"  
  
"Alicia, right? Hi. Something up?"  
  
"I don't know, you're smart, right?"  
  
"Well, you are too but...yes for the benefit of this conversation lets assume I am." Clarke replied.  
  
Alicia ignored the compliment and got down to business.  
  
"Do you know what's going on around here? I mean, people are dying."  
  
"People have always died, Leesh, no one is ever safe."  
  
What a morbid thing to say, she thought. Her thoughts traveled into the next one. Who had hurt her in order for her to say such things?  
  
"You know what I'm talking about, Clarke, the fever, the illness, this disease that's going around. No one's giving me a straight answer about it. I figured you might but you seem to understand nothing."  
  
"Ok, ok, calm down Alicia, yeah? I know what you're talking about. But you're worrying over nothing. We'll have this problem sorted in a few days, I can guarantee it. We don't need to prepare ourselves for anything. It's all under control, so there will be no scavenging for supplies or watching scary movies to prepare yourself, got it?"  
  
Alicia hadn't got it. She hadn't got it at all. This girl was organized enough to bring an eraser and a ruler into school, but she couldn't organize herself enough to simply prepare for the worst. Maybe she wasn't so pessimistic.  
  
"I..I don't know Clarke. This feels like a pretty huge deal to me."  
  
"And, you're scared? Is that what you're trying to say?"  
  
"I don't know. Yes. No. Maybe. It's complicated."  
  
"Isn't everything?"  
  
They both paused on the line, hearing only faint breaths on either side.  
  
Clarke broke the silence.  
  
"Listen, if you want someone to just stay with you or whatever, or just make you feel a little less panicked, you can always come here. To my house. We can focus on your terrible Math skills or lack there of. Because that's your only problem, Leesh. No one's dying today."  
  
But people already had died. And this girl was so far from the spotlight that she was merely a silhouette. The bright and vibrant girl with colors she could drown in was in the dark.  
  
Regardless, Alicia could use the company, so she obliged, stating that she would be over in about twenty minutes, and hung up the phone.  
  
She couldn't say she felt better. Because she didn't. But she felt lighter. More balanced. There wasn't a tear in the world just yet, and she shouldn't act like there was.  
  
She had spooked herself into believing such crazy fantasies that she had forgotten what it was like to simply breathe.  
  
And so she breathed.  
  
It was then that she heard her mother calling from downstairs.  
  
"Leesh! Alicia, get the bucket! Alicia, do you hear me? Alicia!"  
  
She sighed, grabbed the infamous bucket in question, and made her way down.  
  
When she arrived, she couldn't help but notice that her mother was packing a purse in a hurry, Travis was long gone, and Nick was lying on the sofa, looking as if he had seen better days.  
  
She placed the bucket down, and proceeded to ask her mother where she was going.  
  
Nick needed medicating urgently, he couldn't simply live like this. He would die, rather. Die when there was a simple solution that could fix all of it.  
  
She would leave, she would retreive the things he needed so desperately, and she would be back.  
  
Alicia obliged in the end, but reluctantly so. She was still going to see Clarke, there was no doubt in her mind about that. Nick would simply have to hold off until their mom got back. She wasn't going to wait around because her brother had an addiction.  
  
It was hardly fair to place such a burden on her.  
  
She went back upstairs to call Matt. When no answer was received, she made her way back down the stairs again, and out the front door.  
  
"Don't leave! I promise you it's not safe out there!" Nick shouted from across the room, rattling Alicia's ears.  
  
"You make promises all the time, Nick. Lay down." She replied.  
  
"I'm an asshole, ok? But if you leave you won't come back. Please." He was desperate, urgent. But so was she.  
  
"You let mom go." She responded.  
  
"Matt is not safe. You don't know what I had to do. Matt will hurt you, he will kill you Alicia."  
  
Who had said she was going to Matt's? He had assumed wrongly.  
  
And so she left. She had bigger priorities. And staying with Nick would only bring that sinking feeling right back home. That mutilated man. That bite on Matt's chest.  
  
She heard a thump from inside. She decided not to turn around. Not at first. But only at first. Because when she turned, she saw Nick lying on the floor, choking on his own vomit.  
  
Her heartbeat quickened as she ran back inside.  
  
"Don't you do this you stupid son of a bitch!" she shouted, attempting to free his airways, rolling him over.  
  
When the deed was done, she proceeded to get a cloth, and wipe the floor clean.  
  
He should be doing this, she thought. Not her. Since when had Nick been her responsibility. Since when had Nick needed a babysitter.  
  
The answer was he always had. Someone was always taking care of him and it was likely someone always would. But this was the last time, she told herself. She was no one's carer. She had a life of her own that existed outside of this family. She had a life outside this one.  
  
"She should have called by now." Alicia said aloud, referring to her mother.  
  
And she should have. It had been a while. She should be here. She should be with Nick.  
  
"Thank you" he said, quietly, the words drenched with meaning.  
  
"I hate you." She replied, blunt, and laced with meaning too.  
  
"I know." Was all he said, before he drifted off into sleep. Or simply passed out. She was done deciding which.  
  
She texted Clarke, stating that the evening they had planned was off. She didn't want to do so, of course, but she knew her mother would be back soon, and she could hardly leave Nick alone now.  
  
As if on cue, her mother walked into the door.  
  
"What took you so long?" Alicia asked.  
  
"Shut the door." Her mother responded.  
  
Once she had settled Nick, her mom made her way upstairs, and called Travis.  
  
Alicia listened in, but just barely. It became apparent that he wasn't coming home any time soon, and had clearly asked for them to leave without him.  
  
But where were they going? And why? If it really wasn't a big deal like Clarke had said, then they wouldn't be fleeing from their home like this. They wouldn't leave the life that had made for themselves behind as Nick vomited his way through the seats in the car.  
  
That evening, they sat in the living room beside Nick.  
  
Alicia began to peer through the blinds in the room alongside it, to find a pair fighting on the floor. A girl lay powerless, kicking, defending, losing strength.  
  
"Tell me what's going on." Alicia said, desperate now. She wanted answers. And she wanted them now.  
  
The girl screamed, and that was enough.  
  
Alicia ran to the front door. She didn't know how she would help this girl. But she would. She would.  
  
Her mother grabbed her arm, pulling her back, ensuring the door was still closed.  
  
"What are you doing?! Mom! Mom!?" Alicia shouted, enraged, frustrated, disappointed.  
  
Disappointed that her mother would rather let the poor girl outside die than risk their safety to help her.  
  
And knowing that if the tables were turned, and Alicia wasn't her daughter, and the girl outside was, well, Alicia would just have to hope that she could run incredibly fast.  
  
And suddenly she didn't feel so guilty anymore.

 


	5. What, No Soda Cans?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's no Fear this week! Have no peril, folks! Although of course my writing is nothing compared to the splendour that is Fear The Walking Dead, I decided it might be nice for you to have a little fluff chapter whilst we wait for our beloved TV show to make its return.
> 
> Of course it will not be accurate in terms of the timeline I am currently trying to uphold with quotes from the show and such, but it will act as a filler to tide you all over until the show next week! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alicia was awoken to what felt like her heart beating inside her skull. A headache. Stress often brought such occasions on for her, and this was, if anything, the most ordinary part of her day if past events had any say in the matter. She pulled a pack of painkillers out of her bedside table, a pack that was always there, without fail, to cure her of her regular abnormalities, and placed two in her mouth, chasing them with water from the previous night.

She put them back into the drawer, where they would be greeted again tomorrow most likely, and pulled her phone out of the charger socket lead. She had two messages, one was from her friend, Anya, and the other, from Clarke. She opened the latter first.

 

**Math Genius:** _Fancy getting started on your math skills today? I'm very busy of course, but I believe I may be able to squeeze you in. x_

Alicia smiled, and deliberated a response. 

She squinted at the screen as her head pounded, the pain killers still working their magic inside of her, and texted back.

**Alicia:** _Sounds good, I'll be over in a couple of hours? I'm still in bed so I need to get ready. x_

**Math Genius:** _Firstly, it's 11AM, what are you still doing in bed? The day is wasting! And second, who takes two hours to get ready? x_

**Alicia:** _Well, firstly, Miss Know-It-All, I am aware of the time, for I have a clock on my phone, and second, I do. Got to look my best always! x_

**Math Genius** : _Well, once you've finished looking like you're going to a modelling shoot, head over, and don't forget your math books! Signed with love - Miss Know-It-All. x_

 

Alicia took the former as a compliment if anything, of course she knew Clarke was joking, but a modelling shoot? Alicia had always tried hard to impress, but never _that_ hard, and she certainly didn't see herself as model material. It was good however, that the blonde reminded her to bring her math books, had she forgotten, it would look rather awkward considering it was the reason she was going over there in the first place. Well, at least that's what she told herself.

She ran the shower until it was a reasonable temperature, and stepped inside. She always found this to be the most peaceful place in the house. Away from intruders, prying eyes of the family variety, away from everything that caused her headaches in the first place.

When she decided it was finally too long and no longer socially acceptable to remain for this amount of time in the shower, she got out, wrung her hair out, and placed a towel over her head before making her way over to her closet.

Picking out an outfit required more deliberation than her texting encounter with Clarke. She wanted to look nice, but not nice enough to look like a try-hard as it were, so she would have to find a nice balance.

She pulled out her best pair of jeans, blue ones with a small white belt still attached, and a purple flannel shirt with studs on the shoulders. She usually wore a pack of faux leather gloves with such an outfit, but she quickly decided that would be the definition of trying too hard, and placed them back in the closet.

And for her shoes, she laced together a pair of red converse, with signatures from her favourite band scribbled on the ends of them.

She looked casual, but not casual enough to be ignored.

It was a look that screamed, 'I'm pretty, but I don't quite know far that rabbit hole goes.'

And it was just enough. 

Alicia knew that there was no way in hell that her mother, or Travis for that matter, would let her leave the house with all that had been occurring recently, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, she told herself.

And so, she opened her bedroom window, threw her backpack into the bush just below, before finding her way down there with it.

It was crazy, she thought. The world was going to hell, and what was she doing? Studying math with a girl she barely knew. Her priorities weren't in the right place, and she knew that. But she also knew that sometimes priorities weren't as important as beings make them out to be.

Sometimes you just have to do things for yourself, and the rest would come.

She pulled her bag out of the bushes, brushed some leaves from its front pocket, and placed it on her back, telling herself that just because the world had gone crazy, she didn't have to follow suit.

Alicia took an alternate route through a short wood, staring at her feet the entire time.

And with her headphones in, she didn't even notice the sounds of hell itself in the form of groans, and blood-lust surrounding the woods she had once found peace in.

She made her exit safely, finding solace in the street parallel to the trees, and when she finally made it to the front door she knew the blonde was on the other side of, she hesitated.

Once she finally found composure, she pulled her headphones out of her ears, and gave a swift knock.

Clarke answered within seconds, greeting Alicia with a cheesy grin and a math book in hand.

"I know, I know, you can hardly contain your excitement, but please, come in, take a look at my abode, and then I assure you, we will get on to the not-so-arduous task at hand." 

"Not-so-arduous? On whose planet?" Alicia responded, chuckling as she did so.

"On my planet." Clarke replied.

"And on what planet would that be?" 

"Well, it's not so big compared to the other planets surrounding it, and it's full of morons and petty criminals, with the occasional frat boy and prom queen here and there. But some people like to call it earth." 

"And what would you call it?" Alicia asked.

"I'm still working on a name for it." 

Clarke made her way to the fridge, and pulled out a jug of freshly made lemonade.

"What, no soda cans?" Alicia smirked.

"Oh god no, not in this house. Nothing out of a packet, nothing out of a can, we're very organic. Resourceful." Clarke stated.

"Of course you are." It hardly came as a shock to the guest, Alicia knew just how preservative the blonde could be. She probably crafted the god forsaken pencils in her pencil case herself with some tool that was in turn crafted by her great great grandfathers uncles step-father.

This girl was anything but a walking cliché, she was strange, unusual, an otherwise abnormal new-found entity in Alicia's life.

Once Clarke had poured two glasses of freshly made lemonade, lemonade that rather resembled the colour of the girls hair, they made their way up the stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom.

It was rather different from what Alicia had expected.

Of course, it was a conjecture that the girl would have laced the wall with books, and all things pretty, but what couldn't be assumed was the fact that the girl had no family or friend photos lining those walls. Not a single one. 

She sniggered to herself when her eyes were led astray to a rather large collection of miniature horse collectible figures that she decided Clarke had painted herself. And beautifully so, too. She had found herself to be right about this girls liking for ponies and such, and it hardly came as a surprise. 

Her literature collection was impressive, filled with first editions, signed editions, all the editions you could think of. Her wallpaper was a light purple, dark enough to be secretive, but not dark enough to be gothic. It gave off a typical 'girly' vibe. 

Her bed was wood, a light shade of mahogany, and her duvet cover had a bird on it. A bird that had just become free of its cage and was making its way from off the sheet and almost into the room. And she found herself thinking that she would quite enjoy the prospect of flying off with it. Escaping her own cage.

It was piled with cuddly toys of every variety, from popular children's TV shows, and books that had since found their expiry date to the modern world.

Clarke, with a biscuit in her mouth, (home-made, of course) took a seat on the bed, patting the spot next to her, motioning her to come over, and join her.

The girl obliged, and took a seat, placing her backpack in the spot beside her, and took a sip of her lemonade before spilling the contents of her bag over the bird-cage bed.

"Let's get started!" Clarke said, eager almost, before her own thoughts interrupted her. "Oh, right, music! That always helps me. I'll just get my iPod." 

She made her way over to her bookshelf, and took out what Alicia perceived to be a book. She found her perception to be wrong, though, when the girl opened out said 'book' and took out her iPod. A fake book, interesting, did this girl have things to hide?

As she made her way over, she grabbed her speakers, and placed them on the bedside table before taking her rightful seat back on the bed.

"Right...let's see what we've got here." She said to herself under her breath, biscuit still in hand. 

Alicia wasn't surprised when the girl put on a classical tune she wasn't quite aware of or had ever heard in her entire teenage existence. It was likely that it was not in fact made whilst her teenage existence was being carried out, but rather, many years beforehand.

"This'll be interesting." Alicia sighed in a humorous manner.

"I'm sorry?" Clarke replied, confused as to what the girl could possibly be talking about.

Alicia smiled. "Oh nothing, let's just get down to business."

They stayed that way for hours. It soon became apparent that when Clarke came to work, she came to work. Her head buried in the book when it wasn't staring directly at Alicia, telling her all the revision secrets she knew. Her hands wrapped around a pencil, when it wasn't grabbing home-made biscuits of the raisin variety.

Of course they were raisin. This girl wasn't chocolate.

Part of Alicia knew that she wasn't here to revise, she simply wanted to get to know the girl, finding her interesting came naturally to her, and she couldn't help it. Regardless of that fact, she had indeed learnt a lot over this session, and she was feeling a lot more confident in her studies since meeting with the blonde.

And when it was time to leave, she found herself reluctant.

She placed her bag over her back, took one more sip of her third glass of fresh lemonade, and made her way downstairs with Clarke.

"Well, this was pleasant." Clarke interjected. So giddy, even after three hours of math.

"It was. We'll have to do it again sometime." Alicia replied, feeling not only more confident in her math, but more confident in herself.

"We should. I'll see you?" The blonde said.

"Yeah, I'll see you." Alicia smiled before giving the girl a hug as a way of saying goodbye. As a silent way of saying thank you.

She took her leave.

And although she knew when she got home, she would never hear the end of it, she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all. 

Twenty minutes later, Clarke had already texted.

**Math Genius:** _Just checking you made it home safe, I'm a worrier! xx_

Alicia savoured the text, not only because the girl was cautious, more cautious than herself, but because the number of kisses had in fact altered from one, to two. It was a small victory, a very small victory indeed, but it was enough to make her smile.

She placed her phone back into her pocket, and made her way back to reality in the form of a house in which her family lived.

They lived, whilst she merely occupied it.

 

 


	6. I'm The Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is rather...well...boring. You see, it's very difficult to include Clarke into the plot when flesh eating zombies are grabbing Alicia and hanging on for dear life. I never know what's coming each week and it makes my job hard! So...unfortunately, due to this factor this chapter is pretty much just Sunday's episode in word form. Oops.
> 
> HOWEVER, that being said, I squeezed all of Sunday's episode into one chapter, because I am going to be adding another chapter in 2-3 days in Clarke's POV to make up for it so it is going to be the 100 related. I will make it happen! And I promise, I promise, I promise, that once the lovely Clark family have set up camp somewhere, Clarke will be an important part of the story. You'll be saying "goddamn, Clarke, again? She's taking over!" And goddamn why are they both Clark(e) this is confusing.
> 
> Also, if you hadn't guessed, my last chapter filler meant that the timeline went to hell. Yes, yes, oh dear. Well...let's just all use our imaginations folks, and pretend that the events of this chapter, and the episode, happened 24 hours after the previous chapter. Sound good?
> 
> No? Ok, I'll just leave.

Alicia took occasional glances out the window, becoming more frequent as the night progressed. There was still no sign of Travis, and her mother had begun to worry.  
  
"What was that sound?" She asked, as she took her next look.  
  
"I don't know, but it's gone." Madison gracefully touched her daughters arm, as if to say "come away from the windows. I don't want you to see this."  
  
It set Alicia on edge. It seemed as if everyone was playing a game, and she didn't know the rules.  
  
Nick was spiralling, needing more and more pills to keep himself afloat. It must be tough, she thought. Addiction was a cruel mistress and Nick had fallen pray to its superficial charm.  
  
She proceeded to put her headphones in, blocking out the world around her. And it helped her to relax. She put on something classical, something Clarke would listen to.  
  
Something that although she did not particularly enjoy, it soothed her.  
  
Alicia wanted to laugh when her mother pulled out a dusty old Monopoly board. A board they had not used for an incredibly long time.  
  
They were not a board game family, after all.  
  
At least, they weren't after her father had died.  
  
"I'm the top hat." She stated, getting the game set up.  
  
"I'm the car." Alicia chimed in.  
  
"I'm the shoe." Nick shot back.  
  
It was the one good thing about this household, that they could agree on something. Despite this, they constantly argued over the petty.  
  
Alicia decided, however, that life had too many mysteries and difficulties, without adding the trivial to the bunch.  
  
She had never been a fan of Monopoly, except when her father had played with them. Though, in some ways, it made her reminiscent of past occasions. It made her smile. And sometimes a small moment was all it took.  
  
"Alright alright alright, one, two, three, four, that's Boardwalk and I'll buy that please." Nick smiled, rubbing his hands together.  
  
"You always get the good ones." Alicia replied.  
  
"Look, I'm crushing you both, you guys are pathetic." Her mother laughed.  
  
She picked up the dice, only to hesitate when outside noises found their way into their ears.  
  
"Mom" Nick said, pulling her back to reality.  
  
She was never this spaced. Never really this distant when she was so close. She had held the family together. She was the glue to the entire unit. And yet, here she was. Her eyes led adrift, her mind travelling to a thousand different places all at once.  
  
When the game had ended, Alicia made herself comfortable by placing her legs over the table. It was a funny thing to do, something she would never usually consider, but the fact that the world was going to hell, the fact that she knew she could, the fact that her mother had other things to worry about, made her wish to do so.  
  
And when the lights went out, and they found themselves in darkness, and she was hardly surprised.  
  
She kept her calm.  
  
"Alicia, will you go and put the game away?" Of course her mom would ask her to do it.  
  
Reluctantly, she obliged, picked up the game, and made her way out of the room.  
  
And as she placed it back into the closet, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Clarke completely obliterating everyone at a game of Monopoly. Because she knew she would. She didn't need to hope that Clarke was safe. Because she knew she was.  
  
Later on that night, after Nick had let a large dog in, a dog that was covered in blood, the family made their way to Susan and Patrick's home.  
  
Alicia didn't know what to expect, or who to find. She had hoped of course to find her babysitter, Susan, and Patrick, the lovely man she knew and cared for.  
  
They climbed over the fence with ease, and landed safely on the other side.  
  
Their directions separated when inside the house in question. Alicia remained in the hallway, staring at old photos.  
  
Photos were so strange, she thought. They captured a moment of happiness, a glimpse of sadness, a lifetime that didn't feel so permanent, but remained forever in the form of still image. When the happiness had faded, when the lifetime was over, the photo remained. It always remained. And it was important. So very much so.  
  
She found her way back to her mother, back to Nick, peering out of the blinds as she did so, to see a man, or at least, the form of a man, making his way inside their home across the street.  
  
"Mom. Mom, someone's inside our house."  
  
"Stay back." Madison grabbed her daughter by the arm.  
  
Headlights found their way down their road in the form of a white truck.  
  
Travis.  
  
"Oh no no no, it's Travis." Madison panicked.  
  
The family made their way outside in a hurried manner, their breathing ragged, agitated.  
  
"Travis! Give me the gun." Madison grabbed it with both hands, running inside.  
  
"Are there shells? Where are the shells?" Nick asked.  
  
He cut Alicia off before she could reply.  
  
"Leave it, leave it let's go."  
  
But Alicia wouldn't let it go. She had done nothing thus far, she wouldn't be the person dependent on the bravery of others. She would never be that person.  
  
She made her way back.  
  
The lights were off in the majority of the rooms, but she managed to find the shells. She placed them in her pocket, feeling accomplished. She had finally done something to help.  
  
Her thoughts were halted when her gaze was led astray to a pair of legs just below a closed door.  
  
Her breathing caught. Her heart raced.  
  
She would run, and she wouldn't look back.  
  
It was when she made her way outside, and felt the cool air in her lungs, that she felt safe.  
  
She made her way back in the form of the paths she had taken previously, when two hands grabbed her from behind.  
  
She screamed, panic running down her spine, her legs weakening beneath her before her instinct could kick in.  
  
As she trembled, she pushed back, pulling herself away from the torment behind her.  
  
She ran, and ran, until the oh-so-familiar fence was in her line of sight.  
  
She jumped, and was halfway over before her legs that had once felt so weak were grabbed with such sheer force that for one small moment she was certain they would be ripped from her very body.  
  
Alicia kicked, and kicked, alas, that force was crushing down on her, the pain finding its way to her very core, leaving her vulnerable.  
  
The ache subsided when Nick grabbed her, pulling her over, his force reminiscent from that of what had just grabbed her.  
  
"Get off me!" Alicia pushed Nick away.  
  
"I was trying to save you, Alicia!" Nick did not try to console her.  
  
"What's wrong with Susan?" Alicia would no longer play a game in which she wasn't aware of the rules. She needed to know, and she needed to know now, before things had their chance to escalate.  
  
There was a pause, before her mother replied.  
  
"She's sick."  
  
"She's not sick. She's dead." Travis replied.  
  
Alicia knew that the words should strike her like a punch to the gut, like an unstoppable force. But they didn't. The words lingered in the air leaving it cold.  
  
"That's not Matt. He's not like that. He's not like that mom. That's not him!"  
  
Her mother embraced her, knowing that nothing could dull the ache of the news she had just received.  
  
They made their way back inside, but Alicia could no longer feel safe. And she had to wonder when she would ever feel that way again. She told herself that if she did she would feel grateful.  
  
"Travis we have to go. We're packed we're ready we were just waiting for you." Madison interjected.  
  
"We can talk about this in the kitchen." Travis replied.  
  
"I wanna go I don't wanna stay here." Alicia stood up, making herself known, making her voice known.

"We'll take care of each other. We leave in the morning." Travis remained calm.

Alicia would storm out, make her way to her room if she could, but she knew that the new family Travis had taken in would be taking their residence there. She had already been told this was the case, and she had simply been too tired to argue on the matter.  
  
So instead, she texted Clarke, short, and to the point.  
  
**Alicia:** _Stay safe. This'll all be over soon. xx_

It occurred to her that she no longer knew who she was convincing. Herself, Clarke, both. She just didn't know.

She hadn't expected a reply. The world was ending. A text hardly seemed like priority.  
  
And she was right not to expect one, and as she fell asleep that night, a text never came.  
  
The next morning she made her way back to her bedroom, finding herself suitable attire, and some spare clothes for the road.  
  
She grabbed her headphones from the bedside table, and tucked them inside her shirt.  
  
"Alicia, come on we're going!" It was Travis, urgent, insistent that they leave immediately.  
  
"I heard you, let's go." Alicia replied, finding her way inside her mothers car beside Nick.  
  
She wasn't sure where they were going. She had just hoped it would be safer than here. Anywhere felt safer than here. And she would not feel any emotional torment for leaving the house she could never call home.  
  
"Is that Patrick?" her mother asked, as Alicia took a glance out the window.  
  
It was, and he was heading straight home. Straight towards Susan. The woman who had just before left Alicia powerless, vulnerable, weak.  
  
They made a stop at the house, rushing into the garden they had ran through just the night before.  
  
It was already too late, Patrick made his way over towards Susan, embracing her.  
  
His wife grabbed him with the force he had used on Alicia, before a loud bang thrummed inside the eardrums of all present, and Susan went down. A shot to the head.  
  
And no matter what Alicia did, no matter what she thought she could do, she knew that what she had just seen would haunt her for the rest of her days.  
  
It would haunt her, as the soldiers prioritised spray-painting houses, and removing the dead from the path of the living.  
  
So why did Alicia suddenly feel so dead?

 

 


	7. Fruit Cocktails and Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! Clarke's POV as promised! I keep my word!
> 
> Now, here's some news, if you like my fic, then this will be perceived as bad news, and if you think my fic is absolutely abysmal then hey! It's your lucky day!
> 
> Because...unfortunately, I cannot update for two weeks after this chapter.
> 
> Why you ask? I'm moving back to university on Friday the 18th, and I won't have internet installed in my new home until the 1st of October, and once I get internet back I'll have to catch up on Fear, and write a sufficient chapter.
> 
> I truly truly apologize for the inconvenience. I hate to let you lovely folk down. That being said, feel free to leave comments and I'll reply to them shortly.
> 
> P.S. I totally didn't name this chapter after the fact that my diet consists pretty much only of fruit cocktails. *cough*
> 
> Missing you already, I'll see you in two weeks!

Clarke gathered up her things, she paced, she stumbled, she bit her tongue until it bled, but she would not cry.  
  
A dark swell that had hidden and buried itself deep inside her very core was eating its way out after years and years of starvation.  
  
But she would not cry. Not for her father, whom she had loved and lost long ago.  
  
Not for the world that had tortured itself into oblivion and woe.  
  
And most importantly, not for herself. Not for anyone.  
  
A kitchen knife, sharp, and strong. It was something she wished she would never have to use again, but her optimism had faded when she lodged the weaponry in the head of a man. A man whom no longer understood the concept of life and death.  
  
Some food supplies, what little she had, but due to the fact that her family did not eat from tins, or cans, she knew that it was not nearly enough. And she understood that she would have to find further edible items if she was going to make it more than a few simple miles.  
  
Some reading material, it was a crazy thought, to take notice of books and words when the world was crumbling into nothingness and ink and pages were minuscule in comparison to the sorrow around her. She took Alicia's math book that the girl had left behind on the bed, with scribbles and drawings inside it, and little math.  
  
She took three bottled waters, cold, but would not remain so. They weighed her backpack down like heavy rocks, but they were vital, and her comfort was less so.  
  
And lastly, her fathers watch, not such a crazy thought, although to take control of time, to carry it on your wrist, was an ideal that one could no longer afford, time wasn't important. Not any more. Alas, her father was. And so was the watch.  
  
Her mother, Abby, pounded up the stairs.  
  
"We need to leave, now."  
  
Clarke nodded, and placed the bag over her back.  
  
They made their way back down the staircase, and before Clarke left, she noticed the framed picture of her father and herself, taken in her adolescence. She grabbed it, and headed for the door.  
  
And as she stepped into the car, as they drove away, she stared at the city that had fallen. Discretely, she prayed that Alicia was safe.  
  
She pulled out her phone, noticing a text from the girl in question. It was one small victory in a sea of losses. She opened her contacts, and searched for Michonne.  
  
**Clarke:** _Hope you're well, keep your family safe._  
  
It was a simple text, but she truly meant it with all of her heart. She thought of Andre, Michonne's son. He wouldn't understand a damn thing that was happening to him. But she knew that Michonne would do whatever it took to keep him safe, even it meant risking her own life.  
  
They had taken an art class together, and before they knew it, Clarke was teaching the teacher. Michonne had found it amusing, and they had quickly become friends.  
  
And as it turned out, Michonne had known Clarke's father. Briefly, but it meant a lot to her. It meant a lot to know that the people hadn't forgotten the man who meant so much to the girl with the blonde hair.  
  
Because she would never forget him.  
  
She placed her phone back into her pocket, forgetting that she had not in fact replied to Alicia.  
  
"Where are we headed?" Clarke asked, sitting in the passenger seat beside her mother.  
  
"Anywhere with lots of people. Soldiers, fighters, something." Abby replied, giving her daughters hand a gentle stroke.  
  
It struck Clarke as odd that her mother did not in fact have a plan. She was Abby Griffin, the woman organized her clutter drawer. But when organization really mattered, she didn't have a damn clue.  
  
Clarke had been given her mothers optimism, her fathers confidence. She saw the world through peaceful eyes. It was the farthest thing from a tranquil beauty, but it was hers. But when the people started killing, when the standards had slipped, when the houses were spray painted, suddenly it didn't feel so much like a possession any more. Or at least, not one she wished to keep close to her heart.  
  
The sun blinded her through the windows. It was almost as if no one had told it that the world had gone cold and its warmth would no longer suffice.  
  
People lined the streets, some were shouting, others, crying. Clarke was neither. Clarke felt a course of adrenaline line her system. She felt a rush of panic, but a healthy amount that was telling her from the inside that she must do something.  
  
There was a time when white walls and a friend were all she ever needed. Perspective, that's all it was, and all it ever was. It wasn't a case of what she once craved, it was a case of what she needed right now. And what she needed right now was safety, assurance, courage. Survival of the fittest, aiding the weak, and keeping herself afloat.  
  
She pulled her bag into her lap, opening it as she did so, taking Alicia's math book out of its cage. She opened it, savouring the drawings inside.  
  
The first seemed to be Jack Skellington from the Nightmare Before Christmas. It would seem strange to some, such detail on such a frightening looking face. She took a moment to assess the situation. To assess the art. There was a time when the abnormal was praised, when it was only in movies, in books. And now, that abnormal entity had found its way into the spectrum of reality. It had wormed its way from out of the minds of entrepreneurs, and rediscovered a new route into the world. And Clarke was afraid of the unknown.  
  
They pulled over at a truck stop, gathering some supplies, that of which were limited. A few tinned items, some fruit cocktail, some beans of the cheap variety, and a couple more bottles of water.  
  
The shop in question was almost out of items, and Clarke knew it wasn't because of their low low prices.  
  
The people were scared, the people was grasping onto anything they could find, because it was all they could do in the current situation. And Clarke could hardly blame them.  
  
They couldn't fight back, they couldn't pretend that things were fine. All they could do was live, or at least, live in any form that was feasible in the mess that had paraded the streets.  
  
Whilst her mother gathered food, Clarke grabbed a notebook. Her mother raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she did not argue. If anything, she was pleased that her daughter could still find a creative outlet when the world seemed washed of all its creativeness in question.  
  
They overpaid for the items, money hardly seemed like an object any more. It was almost a hat-tip to the cashier. A way of saying "best of luck." And it was the truest form Abby could currently provide.  
  
And as they left, Clarke stared at the photos of employee's behind the counter. They were just pictures, just still images, she thought. But these people had families. They had homes. She wondered where they were now. She had often found comfort in the presence of strangers, in the presence of the unknown, of those whom went about their daily lives like she didn't even matter. Because to them, she supposed she didn't. But she hoped that they were safe regardless.  
  
"Clarke." Abby interjected.  
  
The blonde paused, took one last glance, and turned to her mother.  
  
"I'm coming."  
  
They made their way back to the car. The tank still full, almost. It would get them where they needed to go, wherever that may be. As they drove off, Clarke pulled out her phone, and retrieved Alicia's text.  
  
**Alicia:** _Stay safe. This'll all be over soon. xx_  
  
**Math Genius:** _You too, Leesh. May we meet again. xx_  
  
She put her phone away, retrieved her notebook, and began to write, knowing that the words would never find their home in the world, in the world that would never be home again.


	8. Golf With Soldiers 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm using next door's wifi in order to post this because alas, I still have no internet! I'll have internet possibly by next week onwards. I'm sure everyone reading this cares so much. ;)
> 
> I hope there isn't too many errors in this chapter, though it's a possibility as I had to do it rather fast, my apologies. Enjoy!

Alicia stood in the doorway of her living room. It was an ironic name she thought, for a room in which she did not live, but rather, simply acknowledged. But for the time being, she would reside in it, for her bedroom was already occupied, already lived in, by someone else. Someone else who needed the comfort of its four walls more than she did.  
  
Her mothers words lingered in the air like a plague. Her mother was in a constant state of denial, and such states caused constant waves of hope that was fortified on unrealistic truths. Truths that would never see the light of day.  
  
"We're repainting the family room today" her mother said.  
  
"We repainted it last week" Alicia replied, searching for her phone charger.  
  
"Well we're repainting it again today."  
  
"What's the point? No ones coming to the open house, mom, markets taken a bit of a turn."  
  
It was a crazy world she thought, yet those around her didn't seem to know the complexity of just how crazy it really was.  
  
An open house in amidst a storm of chaos and suffering. There would be many open houses to come, for the souls of the lost would never reside amongst their houses, their homes, again.  
  
She envied her mother, for her mother could make it seem like the universe was still in motion. Like time hadn't stopped. Like society hadn't crumbled and caved in on itself like rubble and lost hopes.  
  
Whether or not she wanted to feel that way too, she wasn't sure. She basked in the fact that she could still sympathise for the lost. Could still battle her own demons whilst fighting the battles of others.  
  
It was how she was. And how she would always be.  
  
The power came on, creating not only a surge of current, but a surge of laughter from Travis. The joys in the world had become minuscule, with a simple wave of electricity being enough to sustain happiness among the people.  
  
Alicia reminded herself to never take such things for granted again. She could not know whether the laughter would remain forever.  
  
She felt a vibration in her pocket. Her phone. And suddenly she found herself smiling with Travis. In all of the mess, in all of the mayhem, someone still truly cared.  
  
As she pulled it out, her smile vanished. It was simply a notification that her phone battery was as minuscule as the happiness around her. She plugged it in. She couldn't imagine why, she thought. Even if she did charge it whilst the power was on, no one could contact her. The phones were down, and anyone she left behind beyond the fence would have to make their own way now.  
  
Regardless of that fact, she pulled up a contact. Clarke.  
  
**Alicia:** _Just checking in. Hope you're ok. x_  
  
The girl knew that Clarke would not see such a text. And she had to be honest with herself, she could not say if she was doing it for Clarke's benefit, or for her own.  
  
Her thoughts became cloudy, interrupted by the loudness of Travis and her mother, and before she knew it she was raising her voice.  
  
"Oh my god stop talking! This domestic bickering like you're acting like a normal people in a normal kitchen, it's not normal, stop acting like it is."  
  
She wasn't quite sure where the words came from, or why she said them exactly. But she stood by them. It was something that was common to her, natural. She meant what she said and she said what she meant. Life was too short to do otherwise.  
  
                                                                                                             ****  
"Mom, mom are you awake?" Clarke whispered. She whispered as if there was company around her, other than her mother and herself, alas, there was not.  
  
She decided that she was whispering because her mother had only had 3 hours of sleep, and it was very likely that she would desire more. She also decided that she would let her sleep for longer. She was being selfish, after all. She'd had 6 hours sleep just before.  
  
So she would wait, and she would keep herself busy.  
  
She pulled out her notebook, that was now almost half full. She made a note to herself that she would only write down the important things in future lest she save space for the thoughts that really mattered.  
  
How could she decide what really mattered, though? In a world of destruction, who could say which words were important, and which ones were not? Were thoughts all jumbled together important at all any more? Were they ever important?

Clarke had always found that words solidified her meaning, they grounded her, made her feel safe. And in the pages of a book, in the confines of another mind, she was home.   
  
She pushed the thoughts aside, the thoughts that seemed just as jumbled as her writing, and began to put the pen to paper.  
  
**Day Nine:**

 _The world is just as it was a day ago, two days ago, three days ago. I miss the warmth of my bed already, I miss the freshness of a shower, I miss my father. Alas, the world has gone crazy, and in some real need for some therapy, and no one has the time to stop and think about what other people around them may miss, because they are too busy running underneath each other. Searching for things others may not be searching for. Finding things others may need. Losing things that may be useful in later life._  
  
_But I am here, in this car and my mother rests beside me. I have never had the need for search for her, I have never had the need to find her, and I have never lost her. And I pray that I never have to._  
  
_I am told that there is safe haven amongst fences, and there is twelve of them. Today, we shall set off in search of one. It shouldn't be difficult to find one of said places, not an arduous task at all. What might be more tiresome though, is gaining access to one of these places._  
  
_But when there's a will, there's a way._  
  
_And if there is anything I possess? It's will._  
  
                                                                                                           ****  
"We are infect free for a six mile radius around this perimeter."  
  
A soldier stood atop a vehicle, and Alicia simply stared at the spectacle above her line of vision.  
  
He read out a list of rules, something about curfew, something about a lot of things. Something about things Alicia could not stop to think about right now.  
  
He mentioned rations and she almost began to laugh. We lived in world of greed, we were consumers, and when the world rose to destruction we destroyed with it.  
  
And now we were sharing supplies amongst the few 'lucky' ones to live in a 'safe' society inside the fence.  
  
The soldier told us how fortunate we were. How we should feel grateful that we still live inside our homes, how there was only twelve places to do such things.  
  
When the parade had died down, and people were no longer gasping at the 'brave' man in front of them, another one of wars righteous disciples stopped Alicia mid-thought.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Alicia Clark" she replied plainly.  
  
He nodded, and she made her leave before he could ask her anything else.  
  
Later that day, Alicia wheeled the families rations in a red cart behind her. She found the idea humorous, and it reminded her of younger years in her adolescence when she would carry out exactly the same task, but instead with girl scout cookies.  
  
And part of her, a very large part, deeply wished that she could go back to those days when her problems border-lined on a cut lip, a bruised knee.  
  
She put the cart down outside the house, and made her way over to next-door. The home of her babysitter, and her babysitter's late husband.  
  
The last time she was here, she had been terrified, living a nightmare that was very much real, so vivid and alive like a drawing that had torn itself off the page.  
  
She made her way into their bedroom. She pictured them lying side by side, so terribly in love. So alive. And she thought about how their problems border-lined on no milk for the tea, and a broken washing machine.  
  
And if she could make that notion a reality for them once again, she would. For they needed it more than her cut lip, her bruised knees.  
  
She stared at the framed picture on the wall, and smiled at the idea that this family maintained the premise that this younger girl was still in their life. That this younger girl still existed not only in the mind of Alicia, but on the walls of a family who had already made their beds elsewhere.  
  
Alicia's eyes led astray to a note on the bedside table. It was a note from Susan, to her husband. It felt wrong to read it, the idea foreign to her. Regardless, she took a glance, and as she read, tears found their way out of her. And she knew that they had been fighting for days. They had finally won.  
  
She placed the note in her pocket, knowing that it would never be fit for its original purpose again. And in a world where purpose was everything, she wasn't quite sure how to make its beauty seem known.  
  
When she left, the idea of object permanence had branded itself on her mind. Nothing was ever permanent, nothing was ever sure. Nothing lasted forever. The note, the picture frames, the universe itself, it was never meant to remain. The only thing you can do is make things last for as long as possible, savouring each emotion as if you shall be the last person to experience such things again.  
  
She made her way back home, noticing soldiers playing golf just outside the fence. Supplies were low, medicine was lacking, and yet here they were. And Alicia began to wonder if she herself would do more for this city than these soldiers. If she would do more for her city than her city had done for her.  
  
When she arrived at home, her room was free for her to use. It was a small victory in a tide of larger burdens. She picked a needle up from her bedside table, and before she knew it, before her mind could even comprehend what she was going to do, she put it to her skin, and pressed down. Just like the tears from earlier, the blood made its escape out of her body, freeing itself, letting itself be known, letting it breathe in the air. She felt alive.  
  
She pressed it once more, again, and then again, over the rose that had almost faded, over the rose that she desired would never fade.  
  
Permanence was a strange thing, nothing lasted forever. But the only thing you can do is make things last for as long as possible.  
  
When she had cleaned herself up, and her mind was guilt free, she went downstairs. Nick had locked himself away, and she decided that if she couldn't make herself feel better, she would make someone else feel better instead.  
  
She opened the door without knocking.  
  
"Go away."  
  
She refused to leave, knowing that Nick needed someone even more than she did.

"Nick, c'mon let me in."  
  
"Do you want me to get mom?"  
  
Those were the words that convinced him.  
  
"Who did that to you? Are you ok?"  
  
Nick, being who he was, gave a non-committal gesture, a nod, before breaking down.  
  
"Hey it's ok" she embraced her brother, her brother that had fallen apart at the seams. Her brother that had been there for her in her adolescence.  
  
She recalled a time in which she was on the receiving end of bullying at school, and she didn't wish to tell their parents. Nick had noticed, though. He always noticed when she was upset, and he always noticed when something was no longer right in her. And he had put them in their place. He made things right again. And he vowed he would never tell anyone. Something was no longer right in Nick. Alicia didn't quite know how she would make things right again as he had done, but she knew that she would do just about anything to try.  
  
When the tears had dried, and Nick was holding his broken self together, they made their leave, heading for the living room.  
  
"Nicholas Clark."  
  
Before the both of them knew it, Nick was on the receiving end of the soldiers torment. Alicia knew instantly that she could never make things right if he was taken away from her.  
  
"Run" she said simply. It was all she could say.  
  
Nick obeyed, but it was too late. And there was nothing either of them could do. With brute force, they captured him, like an endangered animal they needed to capture, or in parallel, like a species that the world would prefer to be endangered.  
  
Alicia couldn't help but lead her thoughts astray, were they trying to save Nick, or themselves? She couldn't quite decide any more.  
  
And just like that, Nick was gone. To better things, or to worse. He was gone.  
  
As Alicia lay in bed that night, she read the note once more, savouring each word, not as if they were destined for her but as if she could understand them. As if she wanted them to leap off the page and heal what could no longer be undone.  
  
A loud bang skewed her thoughts. She thought she could feel her bed vibrate, but it was possible she may have imagined such things.  
  
She leapt out of bed, intrigued by the events that had just occurred, grabbing her dressing gown as she left her room.  
  
Travis was already up and alert, opening the front door downstairs and stepping outside into the darkness.  
  
Alicia followed, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"Open the fence!" a soldier shouted, and another followed suit, and did as told.  
  
And just like that, the fence opened, to reveal a woman, possibly mid-forties, and a girl in her arms, blonde.  
  
Alicia paused. Her breathing quickened, her heartbeat raced.  
  
The unconscious blonde girl in the woman's arms was a face she could never forget.  
  
It was Clarke.

 


	9. Sketches of Structures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is particularly long, I apologize, I can get carried away sometimes! That being said, I hope you enjoy it regardless and that the little details I included aren't too inaccurate (?), you'll probably see what I mean! If they are, well, I apologize for that as well.
> 
> On another note though, I managed to catch up with the show so we're on track now, hoorah! Because we are now on track, I'll probably go back to the old schedule, so the next chapter will be up in just less than a week, 6 days maybe? Yeah, let's go with that to be safe.

Before Alicia could even comprehend her own actions, she was running to the once egotistical girl that was now left vulnerable and weak. She lay limp in what Alicia assumed was her mothers arms. But she was breathing. And because she was breathing, Alicia could breathe too.

"We need help, now!" the older woman shouted, holding the girl in her arms as if letting go would mean to lose her for eternity, as if letting go would mean allowing the last string inside the girl to snap, and leave only a vessel no longer destined for this world.

A soldier obliged, jogging over to the woman and holding his arms out, preparing to carry the girl himself.

The woman retracted, unsure of the man's motive, feeling less than pleased to let anyone carry the girl other than herself, in fear of those strings.

"We can only help her if you hand her over, ma'am" the soldier said plainly, holding his arms out once again.

Alicia would retract herself when words such as 'hand her over' were used. Clarke wasn't a toy, and she certainly wasn't a convict, yet they sure seemed to be treating her like one.  
  
Travis interjected, giving the world balance once again.

"We'll take her in, follow me, you can take care of her there." He gave a reassuring nod, and Alicia could tell that in that moment, it was enough.

The woman did as requested, and followed both Travis and Alicia to their home. Nobody said a word. For as much as Alicia wished to tell this woman that she was a friend of Clarke's, it seemed inappropriate in the current situation. When the girl was well, Alicia would tell her. Until then, she would remain silent.

Her eyes darted over towards Clarke every few seconds. Even as she lay there, almost lifeless, almost breathless, she was beautiful.

But it wasn't just her beauty that struck Alicia, it was the way that the girl curled her hands into a fist, as if to say "I am fighting, even when I may not seem present."

And she couldn't help but think of her mothers friend, Lori. When Alicia was young, she went everywhere with her mother. They were almost inseparable, in grocery stores, at local gatherings, and in hospitals.

Her mother and herself were there when Lori gave birth to a son, she named him Carl. And it was believed at the time that Lori would never wake up, would never see the light of day again. And people cried but the world didn't stop, because other people had trains to catch, and buses to run to.

But her mother did not cry.

And when Alicia asked her why she wasn't crying when her dear friend was falling apart at the seems, when her final string had almost snapped, she simply replied  
  
"See her hands?"

Alicia nodded, staring at the woman's hands as she lay so lifeless.

"They're balled into fists because she's a fighter, and fighters don't give up. That's how I know she's going to make it." Her mothers words were posed with such sincerity, but never forced. Never forced.

And she was right. She was always right back then.

Lori pulled through, because she was a fighter, and fighters didn't give up. After that, the Grimes family moved to Atlanta, a fresh start for her beloved son, she had said. Her mother never saw her again, and Alicia knew that after such events had occurred, another string had snapped in her too.

Once they made it home, the woman placed Clarke on the sofa. Alicia decided that the least she could do was get the girl a warm cloth to place in her head, so she walked to the kitchen, and did so.

When she came back, the woman had buried her head in her hands, and Alicia could hear quiet sobs that she clearly wanted to hide.

Alicia sat beside her, and remained in silence for just a moment.

"See her hands?" she said, placing the cloth on Clarke's head.

"What?" the woman said, staring up at Alicia, then to Clarke, then back to Alicia.

"Her hands, they're balled into fists, see? That means she's a fighter, and fighters don't give up."

A few more tears leaked from the woman's face, whom Alicia now knew to be Clarke's mother due to the fear in her eyes, and then, she smiled briefly, before taking another look at the daughter she cared so deeply for.  
  


                                                                                                        ****  


When Alicia woke the next morning, she did not wake to a throbbing headache. Instead, she felt the brief sense of relief that radiated a sense of euphoria and pleasantness. These things aside, she would always keep a glass of water by her bedside table, just in case the sense of settlement ever faded, and the wariness need be chased down with a side of aspirin.

She had assumed that Clarke had slept on the sofa all night. She deemed this to be unfair, as in this situation, she would have happily have given up her room so that the girl could dream away the pain in comfort.

Her bed wasn't the most relaxing of places, in fact, it screamed 'affordable' and 'convenient', but it was the one place in which Alicia could simply gaze up at the ceiling and feel no obligation to be someone to anyone. A place in which she could simply exist. It was not a rare occasion in which she found her fondest memories finding herself on top of this mattress she called home.

When she finally willed herself to get up, partly due to the fact that she knew Clarke was downstairs, she turned on the shower, took off her sleepwear, and got inside.

The water was warm, refreshing. Clarke looked like she hadn't showered in days, and it was likely that she hadn't. That being said, Alicia highly doubted that cleanliness was the blonde's highest priority when she had spent nine days outside the fence. The soldiers had told them that there was nothing out there. That there was nothing to fear. But Alicia knew better. The fence was there for a reason, and Clarke wasn't unconscious because she was hungry or tired. She was unconscious because something or someone had done that to her. Something outside that fence.

After twenty minutes deep in thought, she turned the shower tap off, stepped out, and dried herself off. She picked a reasonably nice outfit for the day, picking the same jacket she had worn the day she met Clarke. She highly doubted the girl would remember, and as a matter of fact, she did it for herself. It was the little things in life that made Alicia smile, and today the little thing came in the form of a jacket.

She made her way downstairs, and into the living room. Clarke remained unconscious, and her mother had propped herself up in the armchair, a cushion to her head, fast asleep. They both looked peaceful, but Alicia knew that they had seen anything but peace. Whilst she was harming herself, harm had come to them that was not of their own doing, and she could not help but feel a pang of guilt for her past transgressions.

She stared at Clarke for just a moment, and then a moment more. The blonde's face remained dormant, passive, like her body was there, but the structure inside her, those foundations that made the girl the way that she was, did simply not feel present, alive. It was a strange to think that a person was merely a vessel, a vessel lined with thoughts, feelings, emotions, and private struggles that would never see the light of day, but Alicia deemed it to be true.

Everyone was fighting their own demons, everyone had their secrets, but on the surface, as Clarke simply lay there, existing, her face told no lies.

She made herself some breakfast, a simple bowl of cereal, and a banana. She was told that she was lucky to have such supplies, for not everyone was provided with such adequate rations. She'd be grateful if she didn't feel like she was gaining some kind of privilege that not everyone could afford. It would not be marked as one of her little pieces of happiness today.

When she had finished, she washed the bowl and spoon up, she grabbed a dining chair, and headed to the living room once again. Once she had placed the chair down nearby Clarke, she retrieved a pad and pencil from the desk, and took a seat. She took another glance at the girl, and began to draw.

She didn't particularly have a talent for the arts, and she didn't particularly believe that it mattered. For she believed that in a moment of creativity, the only thing that mattered was the way she felt when the very act was taking place, and the drawing, well, that was the evidence that remained that the feeling once existed inside of her. A leftover.

And maybe one day when she looked as dormant as Clarke did, a part of her inner foundations would find its way to the outside in the form of a pencil to paper.  
  
She remained that way for a little over an hour, focusing on each little detail, each little outside structure that made the girls physical appearance stand out, make itself known. And as she was shading in the hair, a brief murmur made its way out of the blonde's lips.

"Alicia?" Clarke asked, slowly moving her hand to her forehead, opening her eyes, squinting at the outside light.

"Seems like Math Genius has awoken." Alicia smiled, placing the pad down on the floor, leaving it closed, and in turn moving her chair closer her respondent.

"It's a weekend, isn't my name Huge Ego on a weekend?" Clarke replied tiredly, wiping her eyes, and smiling back.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but it's actually Monday, you slept through the weekend." Alicia smirked.

"Looks like I'll have to keep the burden of Math Genius for a few more days then."

"Looks like."

Alicia would say more, anything to keep the conversation alive, but she couldn't help but notice that the girl was already drifting back to sleep. Her structures had made themselves known for just the briefest of moments before she became a vessel once again.

And though the drawing of Clarke was merely an adaptation of that vessel, if Alicia looked closely, she could see the inner workings of Clarke Griffin's psyche. She could see each word, each exchange on the grey scales her pencil had left behind.  


                                                                                                          ****

Once Alicia had told Clarke's mother of the happenings that had occurred, missing out the fact she had drawn her daughter in extensive detail, and only leaving in the fact that Clarke had briefly awoken, she decided to go for a bike ride around the neighbourhood. A neighbourhood that had lost all of its inner secrets, its own private psyche now very public to those within the fence. The secret was this: even the quietest suburban town had the loudest mistakes.

She went around the block, passing soldiers, citizens, spray-painted houses, until she bumped into the familiarity of a friend, Chris. It was a strange thing to think of him as, for they didn't even know each other on a personal level, these things aside, part of her found comfort in his presence.

She rang the bell on the bike to gain his attention, and made her way over.

"Have you no respect for private property?" she called.

"Is that your bike?" he replied.

"I'll ask the questions, kinda the law in these parts, this here is my jurisdiction." Alicia could hardly believe she was making jokes. In a fenced off neighbourhood in which guns were required, it made little sense that she did still in fact have time for humour. But Clarke had awoken, and she was fine, and Alicia was wearing that same jacket, so she was fine too.

Chris, however, did not seem fine, and she could hardly blame him. His mother had left him, and he was dearly close to her. Alicia didn't always see eye to eye with her own mother, but she could definitely say that from the bottom of her heart, she would miss her if she was to leave.

She paused for a moment, before giving another response.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He paused with her, and she couldn't quite tell whether it was due to the fact that he didn't want to talk about it, or due to the fact that words were not the easiest things to release sometimes, jumbled thoughts made for jumbled communication, and things were already jumbled enough for such things.

When no response was given, she spoke again.

"Hop on" she said, simply.

"You gotta be kidding me" he finally replied, smirking.

"I'm not, cmon I wanna show you something."

Alicia knew exactly where she was going, and why she was going there. They stopped outside a large house, or rather, a home, one of the largest in the neighbourhood in fact, and went inside.

The inner workings of the house were rather exquisite, and Alicia would feel fortunate to live in a structure such as this one. When she was younger she told herself that a nice home meant a nice family, a nice family meant a content young girl.

As she got older, she realized her formula was in fact, incorrect. A nice home meant a nice home. A nice family meant a nice family. And a content young girl was a girl in which had found inner peace.

She had not yet found such peace, and it was not because her home was not exquisite as this one. It was because she had simply not found it yet, but she had the rest of her life to try.

She made her way upstairs, heading straight for a woman's closet. She pulled out a dress that she believed would fit her, and tried it on.  
  
Once she was pleased with its presentation, she made her way over to the dresser, trying on lipsticks, eyeliner, mascara, anything she could get her hands on to make herself feel pretty.

Her friend, Anya, had told her that she used to apply makeup when she was alone, and had begged her inner thoughts to feel as pretty and whole as she looked on the outside when she had applied it. She only told Alicia such things once before her eyes screamed, wishing she could retract the statement. She never opened up again.  
  
She went back down the stairs in the dress, finding Chris in a suit much too large for someone of his size.

She made her way over to the mantelpiece, staring at the photos of a family that had once looked so happy, so at peace. And she wished that if they weren't currently as happy as they once were, then at the very least they would be at permanent peace, away from the atrocities that had since occurred.

"Where did they go? Do you wonder what happened to them?" she asked Chris, wondering as to whether others thought the same way she did, thought the same thoughts she had. Desperate for answers as to a strangers whereabouts.

"No" he stated simply. And in that moment Alicia wondered just what inner structures Chris had, and why he was so destined to keep his machinations so private, so disclosed.  
  
"They're real people, they built a whole life here. And now..." Alicia stepped over towards a piano as dashing as the house was.

And as she sat down, Chris smashed one of the photos that had once lined the mantelpiece. She flinched at first, but only at first. She knew that the memories would remain intact, the happiness would exist in the air when the photograph had been destroyed, because emotions were never in vain, even when they were regretted the most.

Alicia took a swig from a nearby wine bottle which she then proceeded to smash on the nearby ground, and before they both knew it they were wreaking havoc, destroying objects, but not memories, never memories.

They were alive, creating new memories in a structure that supported old ones.

Once they had decided their destruction was complete, they walked home. The night had grown chill, the air cold, but fresh. The sky had grown dark with little to illuminate it but the stars. And she couldn't help but wonder if the stars in question were the equivalent of her jacket. The sky's little thing to behold and enjoy whether people noticed them or not.

Headlights illuminated the road in front of them, and without hesitation Alicia darted over to a nearby bush, motioning for Chris to follow.

"What are you doing? Get down" she whispered.

"They're not patrolling" he replied, remaining out in the open as if he didn't have a care in the world, when she knew he did.

"Something is wrong" she said.

And it was. The soldiers were taking their leave, one by one. They were leaving the neighbourhood as quickly as they had entered it.

Alicia couldn't decide if she felt safe because of the status that they had, or if she ever felt safe in their presence at all, because of their status.

Either way, it no longer mattered, they had other business to attend to, other inner secrets that may never be made known.

The soldiers didn't simply have their own private structures, they were a private structure, and even as they slept, Alicia was sure that their own core of lies were made obvious, even on the outside.

The two of them decided it was time to go home, to the house that wasn't nice, to the family that wasn't particularly nice either, to be the girl that wasn't content quite yet.

She would, however, feel slightly more content when she saw the face, the vessel, of the blonde once again.

A smile lit up her features, and it didn't take a sketchbook and a pencil to guess exactly what she felt on the inside.


	10. We Roam With Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I know it's not really an excuse but my days since going back to university have been so damn hectic that I literally have no time to myself almost. This chapter is not a full representation of the latest episode, the next chapter will conclude the episode and will most likely be uploaded on Friday. Orrrr Saturday because I'd like to spend more time on it to get it right. I would have added it to this but to be quite frank I have to be up in 6 hours and I'm incredibly tired and I won't get the opportunity to post anything else until Friday so I figured I'd post something and I didn't want to rush the second half.
> 
> I hope this chapter isn't too terrible seeing as I'm almost falling asleep as I write this and was in fact falling asleep when I wrote the chapter. I know it's not great, but it's a lot harder when the story has a lot going on, as I basically have to follow it. I apologize for that. 
> 
> The next chapter will be a lot better because I'm going off in a tangent, and will have more room to actually write a little more solely to do with Clarke and Alicia, so hey if this particular chapter is incredibly disappointing, at least there's that?! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! (If you can haha!)

The very next morning, Clarke awoke once again, but this time her eyes did not find their shelter in the confines of sleep shortly after. They found their shelter in the eyes of a young girl whom had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.  
  
Alicia handed her a glass of water, and took a seat beside her in the armchair next to the sofa. The blonde took small sips at first, but only at first, enjoying the crystallised liquid and the imaginary illusion of taste it provided.  
  
To the left of her were some washed clothes, a pair of Alicia's light blue jeans, and a flannel shirt to go with it. She also provided her with a white under-shirt, a brown belt, and a pair of red Converse that looked as if they had rather outdone themselves and most likely belonged in the garbage. But it didn't matter to Alicia, she could never throw them out, they had memories, experiences inside each lace, it was another little thing that she savoured like stars, like the jacket.  
  
They remained in silence for a while, before Clarke spoke up.  
  
"So...how are things?" the blonde asked.  
  
There was a time when such a phrase meant "how is school?" or "are you still arguing with that friend of yours?" but Alicia knew better. The phrase had flipped, and lost its original meaning, and it didn't take much thought to realize that the new definition simply meant "is everyone alive? Do we have a survival strategy?"  
  
Alicia preferred the old meaning.  
  
She paused, before responding.  
  
"The soldiers have gone. Left us to rot I guess, no pun intended. Kinda sucks but...they weren't exactly much help to begin with." She looked at the ground.  
  
Clarke thought for a moment, before deliberating a reply.  
  
"We don't need them. It's like you said, they weren't much help. It was bound to happen sooner or later. They think they've done their job, they go somewhere else, and they think they've done their job in that new location, and then leave again, guess it'll go on for a while."  
  
Alicia nodded in agreement, and she couldn't understand why, but suddenly her lips were slowly lifting into the form of a smile.  
  
The blonde, staring directly at her, smiled back, grateful to be awake and to have the first thing she see be the girl whose eyes she was currently staring into.  
  
Shortly after, Clarke and her mother had a quick catch up, before they both decided to take a shower. Clarke took Alicia's bathroom, whilst her mother took Nick's.  
  
Madison had also provided Abby with a new pair of clothes to change into, and the two of them scrubbed up nicely.  
  
Everything was a haze of colours in a landscape that had just yesterday been black and white. Alicia was waking up to dull headaches, painting her pallet grey, and now she was sitting at the dinner table, sharing food and smiles, and suddenly her canvas had splashes of vibrancy to it. She didn't mind that she had dark days, for it made the yellows and the pinks seem lighter in comparison.  
  
It didn't take long, however, for reality to strike once again like a missile to the earth, destroying its surroundings and leaving no survivors.  
  
"Mom" Alicia said, simply.  
  
"Go get your stuff" was all her mother responded with, urgent and resolute.  
  
They talked of how they were sticking with their original plan, heading east. Clarke and Abby were welcome to come, her mother had said, once they had retrieved Nick and Liza.  
  
Alicia was too tired to argue, and if she was being honest, she didn't feel safe here herself. She highly doubted she would in fact feel safe anywhere. Safety was a luxury even the bravest could no longer afford.  
  
She packed her bags, grabbing clothes, photos, notebooks, whatever she could fit in the car, for Alicia was sentimental, and sentiment was the only thing left in this world that had remained pure.  
  
Once she had retrieved everything she could, she packed it into the trunk, and waited by the car, enjoying the cold air one last time before stepping into the unwanted warmth of the vehicle.  
  
It didn't take long for her mother to follow her outside.  
  
"Alicia get in the car" was all she said. She was a woman of few words, and since the world had ended she said even less. When words and sentiment were the only things left to anchor souls to the ground, her mother had simply floated away to the tides.  
  
Once they drove away, Alicia peered into the windows of a nearby home to see a family around a dinner table, candles lit, deep in prayer, but God couldn't save them now, she thought. God himself was scared of the unknown, and she couldn't blame him.  
  
They made their way to the gate, and Salazar opened it, leading them out into the once known, that had suddenly become almost forbidden ground. A territory that was once explored, but now, foreign.  
  
And they drove past trees, and they drove past houses, they drove past lights, and signs, and all things man-made. They drove past the infected.  
The infected were nothing but group of people with nowhere to go. Nothing to do but roam.  
  
"They are just like us, we roam with them" she whispered under her breath, before glaring into the lights that no longer lit up the suburbs. The light in the town had died, and the town had died with it.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder to see Clarke and Abby in the car behind. It was comforting to have them here.  
  
They stopped at a car park just a few minutes away from where Nick and Liza were being held. None of them knew what to expect, except that it wouldn't be easy, and that it would most likely be a dangerous game to play, which is why the group decided that it would be best if Alicia, Clarke, and Chris remained in the car park where they would be safe.  
  
Abby was insistent at first that Clarke stay with her, but in the end, her mother knew that Alicia would keep her safe, because Alicia always clenched her fists. She was a fighter. And she had taught her that too.  
  
They said their goodbyes before departing, praying that both parties would remain safe. Praying like the family at the dinner table.  
  
The three teenagers remained in the car, Clarke slumped in the back whilst the other two sat up straight in the front.  
  
It wasn't long before Chris exited the vehicle, taking his leave, and Alicia followed suit.  
  
"If they can't get in, they'll come back." Alicia had decided that there was an unwritten law that dictated you provide peace to those in need, and Chris was deeply in need.  
  
He didn't say anything, so she continued.  
  
"You can't save everyone."  
  
The four words were enough to rattle his core, to make his dormant thoughts active again like a volcano.  
  
"Why the hell would you say that?" He erupted.  
  
"You can't, sorry, it's just the truth" she replied.  
  
"Shut up, get in the car." Chris pushed Alicia aside, motioning for her to do as told, and she did.  
  
She closed the door quietly behind her, taking solace inside. She wasn't sure what they were hiding from, but judging by the fear in the eyes of Chris, she knew it wasn't good.  
  
Her breathing quickened, as did her heartbeat, and Clarke's quickened with her.  
  
Suddenly the windows smashed around them, shattering glass everywhere, leaving them vulnerable with unclenched fists.  
  
A man grabbed Chris before another man grabbed Alicia and Clarke. Soldiers. Of course it had to be soldiers.  
  
They were placed in front of the car, lined up as if they were being interviewed, or worse, sent to the slaughter.  
  
"Give us the keys, we'll take you with us" one of the soldiers said, as if he was providing them with a fair bargain.  
  
"We're not going anywhere" Chris said, standing firm.  
  
"Suit yourself" the soldier replied, "how about you girl?" he motioned towards Clarke, smirking as he did so, and before Alicia knew it she was witnessing a fight between Chris, and all three soldiers at once.  
  
"Stop it, stop it I have the keys!" Alicia could take no more.  
  
"You wanna come?" The same soldier that had smirked at Clarke was now doing the same thing to her, and it sent Chris over the edge once he touched her hair.  
  
"Don't touch her!" He pounded into the nearby soldier, but it just wasn't enough.  
  
Chris went down, and the soldiers took their leave just as they had back at home.  
  
They were cowards.  
  
But was she any better?


	11. Nothing But Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've reached the end of the first season of Fear the Walking Dead, folks! So, tell me, do you want me to continue this, or to wait until the next season?
> 
> If I continue now, the timeline will mess up a little bit, but it will make for good character development. If you want that, then say, if you're like "no no no don't mess up the timeline at all just leave it" then that's fine too.
> 
> Continuing will mean that things that happen in this fic will not be exactly the same as how they happen in season two of the show but I can probably get back into the loop with season two anyway and tie it together.
> 
> Anyway, regardless, enjoy the chapter, whether it be the last one for a while or whether you want me to upload again next week!

Clarke wandered the car park, her gaze shifting each second to a new perspective. To the left she could see Alicia, and Chris, and to the right, on a wall, she saw a poster.  
  
**HOUSE PARTY**  
  
_11:00PM-ALL NIGHT._  
  
The blonde couldn't make out the address, for it was torn and crumpled, and she supposed it didn't matter. No one would be making it to that house party now.  
  
Instead, people would be running wild, whether alive, or infected, it would always be wild now. For the people no longer had the time to be sane.  
  
Her head pounded, and she squinted at the pain, feeling her head for a bump that would most likely be permanent now in a world that modelled change.  
  
She thought of her mother, and closing her eyes, she willed her to be safe. She couldn't lose her, she had already experienced the intense throb of her psychological headache in the form of her late father that would never become numb, and to lose the other part of her that had made her who she was today would be nothing short of the worst thing imaginable.  
  
It was strange, she decided, that to her, the worst thing imaginable would be to lose her mother, but what about those who had already lost theirs? We were in a constant motion of fear for the unknown, a conveyor belt of agitation and alarm, and it was different for everybody.  
  
And when her mother got back, if her mother got back, they would head off again, head to another location in peril to find nothing for them there, and then head to another perilous place. It was a broken plan, a misplaced hope, and there wasn't time for such things any more. Or maybe there was nothing but time. Clarke couldn't decide.  
  
                                                                                                    * * * *  
Alicia began to wander with Clarke, and later, Chris followed. They went out the doors in the far corner, to a set of stairs. A dirty set of stairs that had been recently painted, the smell of creativity still lingering in the air.  
  
Because when these stairs were painted, no one knew that there would be no reason to paint them. No one knew that these stairs were no longer important. No one knew that each and every arduous task before it would be futile.  
  
They sat there for a while, each taking their own separate step to perch on. After a while, Chris had come up with a game that passed the time quite efficiently.  
  
"Before the apocalypse I..."  
  
He paused.  
  
"Before the apocalypse I had a crush on this girl in my class called Stephanie, and I thought that the only thing that could go wrong in my life was her rejecting me, telling me I wasn't good enough for her or whatever. I played it over a thousand times in my head how I would tell her. Writing it on a note, texting her, just straight up telling her, and I guess she'll never know now. It's weird though, because like, I thought about all the possible scenarios more than I'm thinking about what's going to happen to us now. And this is literally the end of the world, the only thing that's ever going to go wrong again."  
  
Clarke and Alicia looked at each other, and then bowed their heads down.  
  
The blonde went next.  
  
"Before the apocalypse I was a nobody, no one knew who I was. No one cared to know who I was. I had my mom, I had some older friends, and that's just about where it ended. I had friends a couple years ago, but when I moved away that was it. I had Octavia, she was really cool, most bad ass chick I ever knew, and I know she's safe because Heaven itself could fall around her and she'd be there to pick up the pieces. I had Raven, the coolest person ever, she got into an accident when we were sixteen, messed her leg up pretty bad, and she just fought through it. My friends are warriors. Before the apocalypse I was a nobody, and now? Everyone is a nobody. No one cares that you had great friends or if you're good at Math. Can you carry a gun? Can you drive a vehicle? What is that weird looking mark on your skin, not a bite, is it? No one even wants to know your name. And I thought I'd like the solidarity but...I don't. I really don't."  
  
Once again, the group paused, Chris shifted into a more comfortable position on the stairs before Alicia picked up the words and continued.  
  
"Before the apocalypse I thought social status was everything. I thought knowing the right people was the most important thing in the world. Only, I got it wrong. The right people aren't the people with the highest stature. The right people are the ones you can stand side by side with when the apocalypse comes. The right people are the ones that would pull you out of a burning building when there is everything to lose. And people get so hung up over whether or not they're good at art, or good at english, or science. But they didn't know. They didn't know that such things were so trivial, and maybe us, sitting here right now, maybe that's trivial, maybe this is all of little value because there are things that are even worse than this. Things that even the strongest person would get hung up over. I don't know. I guess I'm just saying that it may seem like the end of the world, but it's not. It's not the end until it's completely wiped away, non-existent. Nothing but dust."  
  
The group nodded in agreement before they heard shouting coming from the car park.  
  
Hearing his name, Chris shot up first, knowing it could only be one thing.  
  
The group had returned.  
  
He opened the door, his assumptions were correct.  
  
Clarke followed before a soft hand gently grabbed her arm, turning her around.  
  
"Clarke?"  
  
"Yeah?" she replied.  
  
"You're not a nobody."  
  
The words lingered in the air combined with the smell of paint. The blonde smiled before making her way into the car park.  
  
"Alicia, Chris, Clarke!" Madison called.  
  
Suddenly seeing her mother made everything real, Alicia had missed her, but she hadn't really thought about it until now. It was like seeing the shell of a person, something that's not really there when it is, but in this moment she was here. She was safe.  
  
Madison pulled her daughter into an embrace, and over Alicia's shoulder she could see Clarke and her mother do the same.  
  
This is what life was now, this is how things worked. You left your loved ones, you may return to them, you may not, but when you did, you'd better hold on to it for all you had, because the opportunity may never come again.  
  
                                                                                                           * * * *  
All was well, but only for a while, and that was always the way of things. The car park was quiet, save for a few quiet mutterings between family and friends. The world was just happy to be set right again, even if the world meant just a few broken people.  
  
It wasn't long before the world crumbled again.  
  
A man came out of nowhere, who he was, Clarke wasn't sure. She hadn't recalled seeing him before, and it was quite possible she hadn't, but such a detail was not important when a gun was in his hands, and a lost look lit up his features like the fourth of July.  
  
This broken person had nothing to lose, but who would he drag out of a burning building?  
  
He aimed the gun at a man whom Clarke believed to be called Daniel Salazar. And suddenly the family and friends were no longer muttering between themselves.  
  
"Andy." Ofelia said, calmly, rationally.  
  
The name rang no bells to Clarke, to her, this man was a stranger, but to everyone else, he was somebody, for better or for worse.  
  
She could see the fear in Alicia's eyes, knowing that if the girl could do something, anything, to stop this, she would. For Alicia was the type of girl that would pull just about anyone out of that burning building. She was the type of person you wanted by your side when the world had collapsed like a folded up box.  
  
A ringing trapped itself inside Clarke's ears before she could fully comprehend what had happened. A bullet. A bullet had left the chamber and had found its home in the flesh of a living vessel.  
  
Ofelia.  
  
The girl who had tried to prevent the bloodshed had ended up in its cross-hairs. And life, was, if anything, cruel, and unfair.  
  
Clarke could physically see the anger rise up from inside Travis and leak its way out in the form of bitterness and vengeance, and before he could regret his own actions, he leaped for Andrew.  
  
He tackled the man to the ground, punching him as he did so. Over and over, over and over. Clarke could hear the man break from underneath Travis, mentally and physically. She could hear all his strings snap, his nose crack.  
  
The blonde diverted her gaze to Alicia, and it was clear her strings had snapped too. If Clarke could hold her right now, and tell her that everything was going to be ok, she would.  
  
Travis was a kind man, Travis was the type of man that would just about save everyone. So if he caused harm to someone, it meant that they were simply not worth saving.  
  
But no man is innocent, and everyone had blood on their hands and demons at bay, and sometimes, even the devil himself let loose.  
  
His hands shook, as if they knew what they had just done, as if all the fear had descended upon them and they fought for all they had. And later those hands would be graced with marks, with bruises, a final blow to their owner to say "the pain that you beseeched upon others will be burdened with you as well."  
  
And it was an oh so heavy burden to bear.  
                                                                                                          * * * *  
The group made their leave, packing up their cars, facing away from the events that had just spilled out like leaked ink onto a page. A mess was all that was left.  
  
And they would not turn back, for there was nothing to turn back to.  
  
Clarke and Abby took their own vehicle, remaining at the back of the pack, trailing behind the others, following them to wherever it was they were planning on going.  
  
Alicia remained beside her mother, in the passenger seat. Their plan had gone from heading to the desert, to heading to the house of a stranger they had just met.  
  
"Never talk to strangers" was practically her mothers calling card as a child, and now they were trusting one, letting him lead them to solace or to jeopardy. The tables had turned dramatically.  
  
The man seemed rather nice, Alicia had to admit, and Nick seemed to quite like him, so she supposed it was enough for her. Besides, they were all in this together, and it seemed like the only thing that mattered there and then.  
  
They drove past a beautiful beach, wide open spaces, trees that went on for days. It was a beautiful spectacle to behold, and Alicia made note to draw it later, wanting to remember its beauty forever.  
  
They stopped at incredibly aesthetically pleasing home by the sand. And Alicia couldn't help but recall the nice home, nice family, content girl scenario.  
  
She was still not content, but for the first time she decided she could be.  
  
Later that evening, she found Clarke on the balcony, staring out over the beach. At first, Alicia decided that the girl may want some time alone, so she turned around, but then she decided that this girl was currently fragile, and she didn't want her to break, so she would turn to face her again, and handle with care.  
  
She sat down beside her and said nothing. Sometimes nothing needed to be said, it was the mere presence of another that was comforting enough.  
  
But clearly Clarke wanted more than that, so she broke the silence.  
  
"Before the apocalypse, my dad and I were inseparable, we did everything together. He wasn't just my father, he was my best friend, and I can still see his smile light up the cities when he's not around. When I was fifteen, we were heading out some old car show, me, my dad, and my friend Wells. None of us could have known that the car would swerve out of control, that the driver in front of us was a complete moron, that the world was ending for all but one in that car. And I just...I miss them both so much."  
  
The girl broke out into tears, and Alicia pulled her close to her, stroking her hair.  
  
She felt the bump at the top of her head, and quickly moved her hand away as not to hurt her.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..."  
  
"It's fine, it doesn't really hurt that much any more" she replied.  
  
They remained that way for a while, Clarke holding onto Alicia for dear life. Holding on as if she thought the girl had other places to be when there was nothing left to do in the world except exist with others.  
  
Clarke sat up, wiped the tears away, and began to speak.  
  
"A soldier did that, to my head I mean. We were out by some gas station, we'd left our car just around the corner. We regretted it instantly of course when a few of the infected just came out of nowhere, grabbing my mother, pulling her away from me. And I panicked at first, but only at first because there wasn't enough time to panic. And I grabbed the knife out of my backpack and I just...."  
  
"You don't have to say it, Clarke." Alicia already knew.  
  
"No, no it's ok. I...I stabbed them repeatedly. I just kept on going. I had to get them away from her but they were people and I killed them and..."  
  
"Sometimes we have to become the person we hate to protect the people we love" Alicia reassured her.  
  
"I know. I know. It's just like what you said earlier, you know? About the burning building. I would drag her out in a second. Anyway, one of the infected went down, there were another two on each side, but my mom had already freed herself and then suddenly everything just went dark, and I fell straight to the ground and I could still hear the thudding of boots around me. It was a soldier. A soldier had hit me with the head of his sniper, claiming to my mother that it was an accident. That he thought I was one of them. But he didn't think that. He only said he thought that because he knew it would be enough. He has the power, the control, he can do anything. I don't think it's the infected that we should fear the most. I think it's the people that are still fighting."  
  
                                                                                                           * * * *  
Alicia had pondered what Clarke had said for a while, and she had sat with her for what felt like hours. And as the sun was setting, the blonde made her leave, going back inside to talk to her mother, and Chris had decided to take her place.  
  
He handed her an icecream, giving her the flavour he actually wanted, knowing that she would want it also, and looked out over the balcony towards the sea.

"Before the apocalypse I didn't even like icecream that much, now it feels like the best thing ever." Alicia said.  
  
Chris smiled.  
  
"Before the apocalypse I used to worry about eating too much icecream and getting fat, and now I worry even more about getting fat because I won't be able to run away from the infected" Chris said.  
  
The both of them laughed, but it wasn't long before their laughter was hushed with gunshots.  
  
Suddenly they were both running, following the noise, the footprints.  
  
And they followed it until there was nowhere else to go. Until the source of the noise had been found in the form of a lifeless body.  
  
Liza.  
  
Before Alicia could comfort him, Chris had broken down, his strings had snapped, and his worst thing imaginable had become a reality. And he was one of them now, he was another line on the conveyor belt, waiting for his next worst reality.  
  
One minute, a person is here, the next, they are not. And sometimes, a person can never truly be there, whether in life, or in death.  
  
And for each grain of sand there is a vulnerable soul, just waiting to be freed. For all the lives of the living, for all the futures that cease to exist among the dead. For each and every vessel.  
  
The sun glared over them, spreading its warmth all over the coldest situation, as if to say "the universe is still spinning, and though I may set, I will always return once your darkest days have passed."

 

 


	12. Chasing The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is quite a filler chapter, but alas, because the actual show itself is on hiatus, you are going to be seeing a lot of filler episodes folks!
> 
> Your filler sandwich is going to be bursting at the seams, your fillet o' fish is going to become a filler o' fish, Michael Jackson is no longer going to be singing 'Thriller' he's going to be singing 'Filler', and you can file a complaint but I will filler one back to you.
> 
> So buckle up, put on the helmet of character development, and enjoy the ride. The ride that shall be known as 'Why So Much Filler.'
> 
> There will be adventures down the line, soon actually. Just a heads up!

Silence had made its nest inside the confines of the group, and the little birds that inhabited it wore thin, desperate for a place to set up camp, longing for the eeriness to evaporate and then precipitate into laughter, or mutterings at the very least.  
  
Alas, the time for laughter and joy was not upon them, instead, it was time for havoc, for anarchy, and very little in between.  
  
It had been four days since Liza had met her swift end, and Chris hadn't said a word. Not to Travis, not to Madison, not even to Alicia. And the girl knew that if they were still playing their made-up little game, it would go a little something like this  
  
"Before the apocalypse, I still had my mother."  
  
Alicia did not quite know what she would do if she were to lose her mother. For her mother kept her grounded, she was a makeshift anchor, and without her she would simply float away, but she couldn't help but wonder if Chris had found his ground elsewhere. She had hoped that he might.  
  
Thus far they had remained at the house of the stranger, a Victor Strand, the man seemed pleasant enough, not that he stuck around. His plan was to remain aboard Abigail, his boat, until peace was restored once again.  
  
What Alicia couldn't quite comprehend was why the man was so optimistic. Things were getting worse, not better, and he would certainly run out of food on his boat before any form of peace found its home again.  
  
That being said, he had a plan, a mission, a goal, and it was more than could be said for the rest of them, finding solace in his home, eating his food, and doing little else but mourn.  
  
And in some ways, Alicia was envious of his ignorance.

  
                                                                                                       * * * *  
Clarke was tired, but she knew she couldn't lay around in bed all day, however comfy said bed may be. The mattress made her feel like she was floating, the pillows buried her head just enough to provide sheer comfort, and the covers were soft cotton that smelt like home and washing powder and all things pleasant.  
  
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and dragged herself out. She turned the en-suite shower on as she brushed her teeth, savouring the cleanliness of it.  
  
After twenty minutes of pleasing warm water, she stepped out, and grabbed a towel to wrap around herself.  
  
She searched around for a hair-dryer, the action being futile, when she realized she had given said hair-dryer to her mother who didn't have a bedroom to sleep in.  
  
Clarke was just about to get dressed when she heard a knock at the door.  
  
It would most likely be her mother, she thought, but she spoke anyway, just to be sure.  
  
"Who is it?" she called.  
  
"It's Alicia, can I come in?" she asked.  
  
The blonde made sure that her towel was wrapped firmly around her body before stating  
  
"Sure, it's open."  
  
Alicia's gaze diverted immediately to Clarke as she opened the door, embarrassed almost and wishing that she had come at a different time.  
  
"I'm sorry do you want me to come back later?" Alicia asked staring at the ground.  
  
"No no, it's fine, I'm not shy" Clarke replied coolly, smiling.  
  
Just then the blonde realized that Alicia had in fact come at the perfect time.  
  
"Hey, I don't suppose you have a hair-dryer I could borrow? It's just my mom has the one that was originally in this bedroom and..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah I'll go get it, don't go anywhere!" Alicia joked.  
  
Clarke raised her eyebrow as if to say "what an awful joke" before the other girl made her leave to get the hair-dryer.  
  
When Alicia made her return, Clarke had dressed herself in a white button up shirt cut off at the elbows, and a blue pair of jeans, cuffed at the ends because they were too long for her legs. She smelt like honey, and lavender, the shampoo and conditioner colliding together into a hybrid scent.  
  
The girl handed Clarke the hair-dryer, before attempting to take her leave.  
  
"Wait...you knocked earlier, wasn't there something you wanted to say?" The blonde asked, fidgeting with the wires of the hair-dryer, and plugging it in at the wall.  
  
"Oh, well, Chris hasn't really been talking much recently and I thought you might be able to help. Maybe talk to him. You may be an egotistical ass but you're rather comforting to be around and I think he needs that right now." Alicia stared at the ground, almost embarrassed to ask.  
  
"I can do that." Clarke gave Alicia a reassuring smile before turning on the hair-dryer.  
  
She handed it back once she had finished, though the girl simply placed it on the bed, and sat down.  
  
"What was your father like?" Alicia asked, staring up at girl whose hair was still slightly wet.  
  
Clarke sat down beside her, pausing for a moment before deliberating a response.  
  
"He was the greatest man I'd ever known. Smart, funny, kind. When I bought him the 'Number One Dad' mug when I was six I truly meant it. I thought it was the most honest thing in the world. And to me it still remains true. We never drifted apart as I got older, and I was never embarrassed to hug him in public or say 'I love you' before I went to sleep. And when I lost him it was like my whole world was torn apart. Like nothing would ever be right again because I could no longer hug him in public or say 'I love you' to him before I slept. He wasn't there any more and there wasn't even a black hole to replace him. It was more than nothingness, it was worse. But he was always so optimistic, and part of me, a very small part, is glad that he's not here to witness what the world has become. Because the pessimist I thought never existed in him would surely show its face."  
  
Because when people weren't infected with some disease that turned them into monsters, they had simply inherited it by other means. In this universe, in this reality, you were a gun wielder, you were a soldier, you were less than human fighting for the rights only humanity deserved.  
  
Nothing in the world quite made sense to Clarke, and to her it felt like individuals as a whole were pretending to be fine when nothing was in fact fine, and she felt like it had always been this way. We were acting fine to please others who were also acting fine. And now nothing would be fine again, yet we were still acting.  
  
Society had become dislocated, and the damage was anything but transient. So instead of reparation, the people were dancing in the ashes of the fires they had made.  
  
"We all have faces we hide, Clarke. Some more than others. I guess it's just about finding people in which we feel no need to mask ourselves to any more."  
  
"How do we find those people?" The blonde asked, staring at Alicia, begging for answers.  
  
"We wait until the idea of portraying who we truly are to someone isn't so bad any more."  
  
Clarke nodded in agreement, thinking that once the dust had settled, she wouldn't mind portraying who she was to Alicia at all.  
  
                                                                                                       * * * *  
When Alicia returned to her room, Clarke's words echoed on her mind, because she could relate? Possibly. Because in that moment, the two of them, existing side by side felt so real and so natural? Perhaps. Regardless of the why's, and the how's, the girl could not help be reminded that the world was still spinning because the people were so very alive within it. Clarke was still so very alive. Living breathing bodies had resembled the pulse of the universe, and the unison between those bodies was the blood of the world, still travelling in the veins of each sunset, and each and every goodbye.  
  
Alicia put on her shoes, sensible footwear for the beach, and stepped outside into the wide open sky beyond. She was the type of person that didn't like to be shut in, regardless of how beautiful that enclosed space may or may not be.  
  
She walked for just a moment before setting eyes on Nick. He was in a cross legged position by the sea, the waves enveloping him, claiming him as their own, and he was simply letting them do so, as if he wanted to be dragged away by the tides like a message in a bottle.  
  
As he stared beyond, barely recognizing her presence, she sat down beside him in the same position.  
  
"What do you think of the water?" Alicia asked, not knowing quite what to say, already feeling ridiculous for the words leaking out of her mouth.  
  
"Needs more salt" he replied sarcastically, before staring at her, grinning.  
  
She laughed, before picking up a rock, and throwing it into the sea.  
  
"Next you'll be saying the whole life's a 'beach' joke" Alicia replied.  
  
Nick smiled, and then stood up, wiping the sand off his jeans.  
  
"You still remember what I taught you about skipping stones?" he asked, looking out into the sky covering them, staring directly into the sun blinding his vision.  
  
"Is water still wet?" she said plainly, before smirking, and standing up herself.  
  
The two of them would skip stones all the time when they were kids, when innocence still remained such a vital part of them. It had taken Alicia a while, because she was so young, but eventually, Nick had taught her to skip stones almost as well as he could.  
  
He didn't play well with the other kids, but he didn't deem it necessary, because when he got home from school, the two of them would head to the lake by their house together, and they would skip stones, so carefree, and in those moments, no one else in the world seemed to matter.  
  
But then they got older, and the world intervened, and innocence was lost. Alicia chose popularity, and Nick chose narcotics. But he knew that no high, illegal or otherwise would ever replicate the days of his childhood that he missed so dearly, when he believed that the moon followed him wherever he went, when he would watch the rain on car windows and see which droplet ascended the quickest, and it pained him to know that those days were over now and he was drowning in the inevitability of collisions and massacres. No one was carefree any more, no one was simply skipping rocks or racing raindrops amongst the madness. And being popular now in this reality was as useful as chasing the moon.  
  
The sibling bond between them kicked in, and Alicia could see the war taking place in his eyes. She would not fight beside him, but she would not wave a white flag either.  
  
"The worlds not over yet you know." She gave him a playful shove, and a reassuring smile.  
  
"Yeah I know." He squinted at the sun, almost inviting it to blur his vision just as reality itself had become blurred.  
  
They remained that way for a little over an hour, taking in each ray of light, each beam of hope as they picked up rock after rock and gave it new home in the cool water before them, and for just the slightest moment, they were kids again, standing beside the lake by their house, drowning in the carefree spirit of innocence.  
  
                                                                                                     * * * *  
Clarke wasn't quite sure of the words she would use when she approached Chris, and she had hoped that they would simply find themselves when she found him.  
  
When her father died, it was like a limb had been physically ripped from her being. And what were you to do when you woke up every day to an empty void, to a missing limb?  
  
Some battle scars seemed small, unnoticeable in darker lighting, but scars such as this one, losing a parental figure who had nurtured you, cared for you, lived for you, there was no covering up that ugliness, that mutation, that scar that could be seen in even the blackest room.  
  
It was strange how a tragedy could become your master status. When she lost her father, she was no longer known as 'the smart blonde girl' or 'the moody quiet one', she was simply known as 'the girl who lost her father'. It was tolerable to some extent, because she didn't need to speak of the events to anyone at school, for they already knew.  
  
And when she moved schools, she lost that status, that label that screamed loss and sympathy. And Alicia had given her a new name, granted, 'Huge Ego' was quite the insult, it was still better than the former. Anything was better than the former.  
  
Chris had one thing to latch on to, the world was tearing at the seams, and losing a parental figure in this environment was if anything, ordinary.  
  
He would never have that master status placed upon him. He would never be known as 'the boy who lost his mother' because mothers were typically lost. And so were fathers. People were being lost amongst the swarm of desolation.  
  
When she found Chris, he was sat on the balcony, where he spent most of his time alone. Today, he would have someone to talk to, someone to sit there with, to share some of the loneliness, half it so it didn't seem so real any more.  
  
And at first, his words were rigid and slow, unclear and unsure. But eventually, Clarke managed to break the gradual silence between him and before long they were both dancing in the words. Giving new name to the energy around them, the speech flowing like ink onto a page.  
  
And they spoke, and they paused, and then they spoke some more until all the words in both brains had been covered. A canvas of stories and past regrets had been covered in full colour with hints of black and white where the destruction was.

So there would be a scar for the lost souls, and a bruise for the transgressors. There would be ink for the living, and a pen for the righteous.   
  
Chris may not have known such things, but Clarke was suddenly feeling differently herself, as if the collission of both of their voices had sparked something inside of her.  
  
The world wasn't ending, and we were still painting canvases.


	13. Matthew 11:28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlucky number thirteen, is it that chapter already? Well, it is an incredibly unlucky chapter, so hoorah for tradition.
> 
> Well, let's not pretend that I uploaded a week ago, because I didn't, I didn't the week before either. But basically I've had the flu, I've been completely overthrown with university work, and I've barely even had enough time to sit down! And when I could sit down, I was well, lying down, trying to get over the terrible sickness I had.
> 
> Joy to the world, right?
> 
> So here's a fairly lengthy chapter that may make you more angry at me than happy because well, it's not all that pleasant.
> 
> That being said, I will update soon, I assure you! I can't promise when it'll be because damn is my life busy at the moment, but it shouldn't be long!
> 
> I've used a lot of exclamation marks, haven't I? Anyway, apologies to you all, and I hope you've had a good few weeks whilst I've been away!

Words sometimes stung as if a sharp needle had found its home inside your chest, as if peace would never find balance again. Clarke was drowning in the what if's and maybe's, the needle lodging itself further and further until it made a hole in her heart leaking words and spilled blood onto the page before her.  
  
She was in a state of purgatory. The state in which she was sat down, on the bed, pen in hand, ink screaming to be used, to be set free onto the paper, but she simply could not describe the events that had led to this moment.  
  
There was Heaven, and there was a Hell, and there was a mesh of the two not destined for this universe, not destined for anyone.  
  
One moment, you were sitting on the bed, that pen in your hands, that screaming ink, and the next, you are fighting for survival, you are watching those around you die, you are suffocating in the endless spiral of tomorrows. Because tomorrow would bring pain. And the next day would bring the same. And the next. And the next. And the next.  
  
And when Travis shot that man, that infected man, he did not flinch. He did not turn his head in disgust. Because the world had dehumanized those who could not speak, who could not stop themselves from being what we fear. History was repeating itself, and the universe had always found ways of taking people and making them less than human when that was all they ever wanted to be. We promoted hatred for our own nefarious purposes. We all left our legacy of self destruction.  
  
Alicia would make it, she had to make it. Because Alicia was the type of person that would drag any living soul out of a burning building. But who would drag her out now that she had already burned?  
  
But she was downstairs, and Clarke was not.  
  
Alicia had a knife lodged in her side, and Clarke did not.  
  
Clarke was drowning in the what if's and maybe's, and her heart had simply burst.  
  
                                                                                                   * * * *  
  
48 HOURS EARLIER  
  
"You almost ready?" Travis asked, addressing Clarke, Alicia, and Nick.  
  
"I was born ready." Nick replied, smirking.  
  
The two girls simply nodded, packing supplies for the road, exchanging glances at each others bags, working in unison to remember each and every item that may or may not be crucial.  
  
Alicia still wished to thank Clarke for talking to Chris the day before, but she wasn't quite sure how to word it just yet. He was staying at the Strand residence today, and would not be joining them on their trip, because even though he was there in the form of a vessel, he was still not there in spirit, thus making him a liability.  
  
When the four of them had packed, they made their way to the car. Nick sat in the front beside Travis, whilst Clarke and Alicia sat in the back.  
  
The blonde fiddled with her bag, searching for an item from inside. A notebook and pen. The book itself was a light brown, and had a fox in the bottom left corner, and the pen had writing on it which read "THE ARK, SECTOR 209." Alicia couldn't help but wonder if it was referring to the company a few hours down the road. She also couldn't help but wonder if the pen originally belonged to Clarke's father.  
  
The girl began to write, slowly at first, until the words came to her and suddenly the page was full. And when she was lost in concentration it was like the world slowed down for her, like time had slowed down, even though time was no longer a construct in anybody's lives.  
  
They parked up by a gas station, refilled, and then drove for another thirty minutes. The plan was as follows:  
  
Fill up at the gas station - Check  
Get to the nearest hospital - To be completed  
Find supplies, and people - To be completed  
And finally, drive safely back to Mr Strands, and, if a new haven had been found at or near the hospital, gather the group and return to it - To be completed  
  
They arrived at the hospital swiftly, for there wasn't exactly traffic to patiently wait in any longer. At first, Travis asked for both Alicia and Clarke to stay in the car, but an eyebrow raise from the blonde and a stern look from Alicia made him quickly change his mind. The pair of them were not helpless girls, and could easily defend themselves if necessary.  
  
The area was dead, worse than dead. It seemed as if not a single living thing had been here since everything went down, though Alicia knew that this could not be the case. In this new world, hospitals were at the top of the list of priorities.  
  
But if the world was dead, or dying at the very least, then maybe hospitals didn't seem so important in comparison.|  
  
The universe had become like a giant weed, withering, and with not much purpose. And the people had destroyed it, because that was what you did with weeds. And people denied its beauty, because that was what you did with weeds. And people wanted flowers in place of what had once been. Because that was what you did with weeds.  
  
But no flowers were to bloom here any more.  
  
                                                                                                 * * * *   
  
Night had fallen as they packed hospital supplies into the trunk of their car, and in the time they had been here they hadn't seen a single living soul.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
A muffled scream came from inside the building, the building in which they had searched moments previously and found no one.  
  
It sounded distant, afraid, longing for someone to come to aid.  
  
"You guys stay here, I'm doing this alone, it's too dangerous for you." Travis stated.  
  
"Like hell it is, I'm coming with you, let Clarke and Alicia stay here."  
  
Travis paused for a moment, deliberating.  
  
"Fine. Clarke, Alicia, you stay....wait, where is Alicia?" Travis voice was louder now, more distinct.  
  
Panic had rapidly set up home in the group, Alicia was nowhere to be seen, and the night was only getting darker.  
  
Travis took control immediately, knowing that there was not a thing that he would not do to save her.  
  
"Nick, Clarke, stay in the car, you don't get out for anyone, or anything, except me, or Leesh, understand?"  
  
They paused.  
  
"Do you understand?" He spoke more firmly this time.  
  
They both nodded and made their way to the vehicle.  
  
Travis grabbed his flashlight, and tucked a couple of weapons inside his belt buckle. A kitchen knife, a dagger, and gun he would only use if absolutely necessary.  
  
He took a breath, before making his way back into the abandoned hospital.

                                                                                                     * * * *   
  
Alicia started to tremble, from cold or from fear, she wasn't sure. Possibly both. Right now she felt like she had climbed over the fence, to find the grass wasn't greener here. Right now she felt like she had stepped into Wonderland and it was a living nightmare. Everything about this place was a living nightmare.  
  
But she remembered her talk with Clarke, who would she save from a burning building?  
  
The hospital had not burned, but its mere presence had left her engulfed in flames.  
  
Someone had screamed, and someone had needed help desperately, and she sure as hell wasn't going to leave someone behind like that.  
  
She passed empty wheelchairs, old IV's, and the fear made itself dominant. She wasn't cold, she was terrified, and that was why she was trembling.  
  
It was like something out of the movies, she thought. Didn't the dark haired girls always survive horrors?  
  
"Hello?" She called out. She would need the person to make some form of noise again if she was going to find them. Follow the noise, retrieve the person, get out. Sounded like a good plan enough.  
  
"I'm over here, hurry, please!"  
  
Alicia's walk turned into a sprint, she passed room after room, spooky object after spooky object.  
  
Until there she was.  
  
The girl - no woman - was of mid-age, possible late thirties, early forties. She had dirty blonde hair, and it was tangled and caked with mud, as the rest of her was.  
  
Her leg was seeping blood all over the floor, so much in fact that Alicia nearly slipped over on it.  
  
It didn't look like a bite, but it didn't look much like a gun-shot wound either.  
  
Was this woman infected?  
  
Alicia quickly decided it did not matter, for at the moment, this woman was coherent, she was speaking, she was alive and dying at the same time.  
  
A loud bang came from the other room, and then another, and another.  
  
"They're here, I told you they would come I told you!" The woman flailed her arms, catastrophic almost. Something about her wasn't right, but Alicia supposed that was quite rational given the situation.  
  
The infected had begun to hit themselves against the door, and if they were to get in, well, Alicia could only say that she would hope her mother would pick out a nice tombstone for her.  
  
"Do you have a weapon?" Alicia asked. They had to prepare themselves for the worst, even if the worst meant never leaving this building alive.  
  
"No, I, no I suppose I don't." The woman replied, her lip trembling, pools of tears forming in her eyes.  
  
Alicia handed her a kitchen knife, a large one, the woman grasped it with her shaking hands.  
  
"We need to get you out of here." Alicia took control, knowing that they had little time.  
  
She lifted an arm over her shoulder, the woman could barely walk, but she could limp the rest of the way. That being said, Alicia did in fact remember how long it took to get to the woman. It was a long way back, and that door wouldn't hold.  
  
They remained in silence as they slowly progressed through the building.  
  
The woman was shaking to no end, so Alicia decided to try and calm her down.  
  
"Were you trying to get supplies, or?"  
  
"No. I worked here. Came to get some of my things. Was hoping that some of my co-workers would do the same, but clearly they had other plans."  
  
Alicia couldn't imagine working in a hospital, she loved to help people, but to have someone's life balancing on your shoulders, to be the point between life and death, to control such things, it just seemed crazy to her.  
  
No one should be able to decide who lives and dies when people just didn't seem worth saving.  
  
The scratching sound of boots on floor came from down the hall, could it be Travis?  
  
No, she thought, it was coming from the wrong direction, it meant something bad, something awful.  
  
The infected had managed to open the door and it wouldn't be long now before chaos struck.  
  
They picked up the pace, but the both of them knew that it would not be anywhere near as fast as they needed to be right now.  
  
The two of them turned around. There were maybe five or six on their tail. They were human, but they weren't, and Alicia would have no difficulty slicing them open if it meant getting the two of them out of here to safety.

They approached fast, Alicia pulled out her knife and the woman beside her did the same.  
  
"I'll take the ones on the left, can you take the two on the right?"  
  
"I'll try. Lord knows I'll try." The woman responded.  
  
As she spoke, she drew a cross on herself with her hands. No god could save her now, Alicia thought, but she decided it would be incredibly rude to say such things out loud. The people had gone crazy, and Armageddon had struck, but there was no Ark of safety, no boat that could rescue them, so they would simply drown with the sinners.  
  
The first infected lunged for the woman, Alicia stabbed it in its neck trying not to think about how this person had once lived, had once loved, had once experience the same things she had experienced, she retracted her knife, spraying blood all over her, the woman backed away, remaining clean for now.  
  
She dived it back into the same one, aiming for the head this time, it went down.  
  
She had killed someone, and it had been with ease, her confidence became boosted, she liked to think she was putting these people out of their misery, and before she knew it she was lunging herself at another. Putting another one out of their misery. Out of their torment.  
  
Down it went, and again, and again.  
  
She repeated the process until only one remained. It dived for her and she went down, dropping her knife as it slid down the corridor.  
  
It was on top of her now, and she screamed out.  
  
The infected human went in for the kill, in for the bite, when a knife went clean through its head.  
  
The woman stepped back, and sobbed.  
  
"Thank you. Thank you." Alicia said breathlessly.  
  
"No, no you don't understand. You're covered in...you're covered in..."  
  
"I'm what? I'm covered in blood you mean? Yeah. How did you not get sprayed?"  
  
"I was careful, you weren't. You weren't careful and oh dear I don't want to have to hurt you."  
  
"Are you serious? We saved each others lives back there I'm not infected. It's only blood. Calm down, ok." Alicia edged closer to her, aiming to take the knife away from this woman who was clearly not quite right in the head.  
  
"Stay back, stay back monster." She crossed herself again.  
  
"Look, we're going to leave here together, ok? I have friends outside who can help you, but only if you'll let us."  
  
The woman paused for a moment.  
  
"I...ok. I'll let you help me."  
  
Alicia smiled, though she did not feel like smiling.  
  
She edged closer to the woman, aiming to put her arm over her shoulder when a sudden burst of pain shot through her side, alarming all of her her senses, electrifying her very person.  
  
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry it had to be done. I'm helping you. Matthew 11:28 "come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Rest now child."  
  
Alicia didn't remember when it happened, but she had fallen, and she was lying on the ground now in a pool of her own blood and the blood of the infected.  
  
The universe kissed Alicia to sleep, and then everything went dark.

 


	14. Tiny Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello there folks! Apologies for the delay, I had so many deadlines to meet (most of which I have not met yet, oops). Anyway, my second apology is for the shortness of this chapter. I always feel like I'm not giving you enough and I feel bad about that but in all honesty I'm not a great writer at all (I'm sure you have all guessed by now) and it takes a lot of work to get something even remotely decent out of me writing wise haha. But do not despair I have some ideas up my sleeve and they shall be in written form very shortly! Hope all is well with everyone reading this!

Death was the unbecoming of a girl. It was the blade lodged within her side. It was the air that she breathed, willing it to fill her lungs and numb the ache.

And though the knife had been removed, the memory remained, and the feeling, the dysphoria remained with it, like a phantom limb, like an object that had long since been thrown away finding solace in your home once again, like deja-vu.

Clarke sat beside Alicia, the vessel of the girl who was there but not there, and she willed herself to break the silence between them, to re-attach the strings that had now broken inside of her.

She leaned forward, and gently stroked her hair. One string at a time.

Alicia flinched at first, but only at first, slowly relaxing under Clarke’s hand, she could finally begin to feel human again.

“How do you feel?” Clarke asked, knowing immediately it was a completely stupid thing to ask.

“Like I just got stabbed.”

Clarke supposed she deserved that sarcastic retort. Regardless, they both found themselves smiling.

When the words had dissipated, the blonde was left regurgitating the memories swarming amongst her mind. This girl had gone back into that building, she had fought, she had killed, and she had done so to save the life of a woman that simply wasn't worth saving. And if Clarke ever encountered that woman, they’d better hope and pray that they could run fast.

And suddenly the words she was beginning to form became a haze, a blur of the darkest grey’s and reds, and then Alicia reached out, and took Clarke by the hand. The colour wheel had spun back, and was restored once more in the form of the brightest pallet.

“Alicia?”

The girl stared directly into Clarke, taking a gulp as she did so.

Alicia was the type of girl that would pull someone out of a burning building when she was dancing in flames herself. She was the type of girl that thought second chances were everything. She was the type of girl that took a knife to the gut and still made jokes.

“I would have saved you.”

Her hand gripped tighter.

                                                                                                        * * * *

Alicia winced at the pain as Abby changed her bandages. She did so carefully, making sure it covered the wound in a veil of darkness.

And Clarke remained. She had sat there for hours now, only leaving to get the both of them a snack, not that Alicia really ate anything given the current situation.

When the deed was done, and Abby had taken her leave, the blonde held a glass of cool water up to the girl’s lips. She took a small sip at first, which turned into a large gulp, and then another.

 

“So what’s been happening since…the incident, any good news?” Alicia asked, after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Clarke gulped as a response. Nothing pleasant had happened since they last spoke, Strand had taken his leave, Chris was unsurprisingly still mourning, and everyone was waiting for something good. Something that may never come to be.

But Alicia was still alive, and Clarke told herself that was enough in terms of good news.

It was more than enough.

                                                                                                       * * * *   

Clarke sat on the balcony, admiring the view of the stars. They glared down at her, unknowing, how could they know that the world was dying when they had died years before her? Before any of them?

She was a speck, she was less than a speck, but all of her problems came tumbling out in the form of something the opposite of trivial. Her situation did not seem like a speck, it never would.

It had been a week since the incident at the hospital, and the group were a lot more careful since. The blonde just wished that they had learnt their lesson through other means.

It was as if the universe looking down on her knew exactly how she was feeling, when Alicia opened the doors leading out to the balcony, and slowly took a place in the chair beside Clarke, wincing as she sat down.

“You shouldn't be out here yet, Leesh, you’re still pretty bad.” Concern leaked from Clarke’s words like ink to a page.

“I'm fine. Besides, I could use the cold air.”

Alicia stared at the ground, taking in the view, taking in anything to take her mind off the silent headache plaguing her view and disorientating her vision. They remained that way, sitting in silence until Alicia decided to speak once more.

“I don’t regret what happened.”

Clarke stared at the girl, confused, unaware of where this conversation was headed. She paused, and then responded.

“I…I'm sorry?”

How could this girl not regret the events of the past week? She had been stabbed for Christ’s sake. She had put her trust in a woman she did not know, and it had back-fired to no end. She had a gaping wound in her side that didn't seem like it was going to heal any time soon. Things were dire, surely she knew that?

“I don’t regret what happened.” She repeated. “I went back inside that building because someone needed my help. I went back inside because it was what any caring human being would do. If I didn't, it’d make me less than human. I’d be worthless. Nothing. I’d be worse than nothing. But I did go back inside. And I may have been betrayed, I may have been stabbed, but I didn't become nothing in that moment. It didn't stop me from being human, but it would have done if I hadn't even attempted to save her.”

Clarke hesitated in her response, knowing that the next words she said would have to mean equally as much as what had just been shared with her. We threw around phrases and sentences like we would always have the opportunity to speak, we didn't once stop to think about just how much they truly meant when each and every day felt like a lifetime, like a struggle, like an apocalypse. Like we would never have the opportunity again.

The blonde knew something as much, the girl beside her was no warrior, no princess, but she had built her castle walls and she had torn down her establishments. She had fought and she had bled, she had lived and she had hung from the brink of death grasping for air like it was a physical force that could be reached for.

“Sometimes being human isn't enough. Sometimes we have to become more than that to feel like we belong.” Clarke replied, taking a gulp as the words left her lips.

“And what if we never truly belong? Can we ever become more than human?”

Clarke had not noticed it before, but this girl was in a sense of balance, and she was tipping the scale. The popular girl from school did never truly belong, she just wanted to be human.

“Maybe it’s not about being more than human, maybe it’s about being the best person we can be in our final moments until we cease to exist. I guess we’re like stars if you think about it.”

“Stars?” Alicia asked, silently asking the blonde to continue.

“Yeah, like stars. We burn bright and then we die. Some explode, never to be seen again. But some, if we burn bright enough, will still be seen hundreds or thousands of years from now. And people don’t think about how the stars have died when they look up to the sky, they think about how beautiful they are. And that’s just like people I think. You burned bright the other day, your fate is sealed, and it doesn't end in explosions for you.”

A silent plea that the girl before her was beautiful. The words did not need to be said.

Clarke stared at Alicia for a moment longer, and as tears welled up in her eyes, she knew that she had said the right thing to comfort her in that moment in time.

“Here’s to being human.” Alicia responded, a small smile of appreciation tugging at her lips.

“And here’s to being the best person we can be.”

Clarke took the girls hand in hers, their fingers lazily tangled together, as Alicia stroked the back of her thumb, and leaned back in her chair, savouring the comfort of skin against skin, and the beauty of the dying universe around them. The maintained silence was enough.

And suddenly it didn't matter if the two of them didn't burn bright after death for the whole world to see, because they were two stars that saw light in each other, even in the darkest moments, taking in the beautiful sight of their own tiny explosions.


	15. Flock of Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for fluff so I'm laying some ground-work for said fluff. This chapter is the build up to said fluff with some fluff in it. Have I said fluff enough? Probably not. Fluff. Enjoy!

Alicia awoke feeling groggy and bewildered. She did not recall falling asleep, but she knew she must have done, and for quite some time too. With her right hand still laced in Clarke’s, she used her left hand to pull her phone out of her pocket to check the time. 3:24AM.

The two of them had sat out here a little after 11:00PM, meaning that they had been out here in the cold for over four hours now. Her back felt tight, her body awkwardly twisted, and so she slowly sat herself up after slouching for an extended period of time, being careful as not to wake Clarke beside her.

Her neck clicked, and her left arm followed suit. After slight deliberation and a few sounds of protest from her body later, despite Alicia’s reluctance, enjoying the sight of Clarke as she breathed in shallow breaths and slowly breathed out again, she decided it was time to wake the girl up, lest she wish to be in the same amount of pain as herself. If she left the blonde any longer she would be stiff as a board.

She left their hands connected as she leaned over and pushed the girl’s hair back behind her ear with her left hand with one graceful movement. Clarke simply mumbled something in her sleep and instead of waking up, moved closer to Alicia and nuzzled her head into her shoulder, her breathing remaining slow and fluid.

Alicia had to admit, Clarke was extremely beautiful, in this way, or any other way for that matter. Her mouth was curved into a slight smile and her chest fell with each breath. She seemed comfortable, content, and maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if she was left to sleep for just a little while longer.

In order to ensure maximum comfort of both parties, Alicia slowly unlatched her fingers from the blonde’s, and instead placed her arm around the girls shoulder, pressing her closer into her side for warmth.

She closed her eyes, and the universe disappeared.

                                                                                                         ****

  
Clarke awoke to the streaming sun, and the sound of birds in the wind. It was peaceful and slightly comforting even to know that though the world around them was crumbling, the birds still sang their song. It was a strange thought, but Clarke became rather sad when she saw a flock of birds, with one little bird trailing behind, trying to keep up with its group. In some ways she could relate to the little bird, for she was always trailing behind, never finding solace in others.

But with the girl beside her, fast asleep, head pressed into Clarke’s side, it became apparent to her that maybe the feeling was only temporary. Maybe she had found her group and was no longer trailing behind like a lost bird.

Though she didn't recall when their sleeping position had changed since their hands had been encased in each other’s, Alicia looked stunning in the light, the sun reflecting over her features like the bottom of the ocean. Clarke wasn't sure what time it was, probably early morning and likely no later, but in this moment in time she couldn't bring herself to care. Couldn't bring herself to think about the pain and torment that the last two weeks had brought. Couldn't bring herself to think about tomorrow, and how they once again could be fighting for their lives.

Because right now they simply were. They merely existed and that was enough. And maybe it was always enough.

                                                                                                          ****

  
The afternoon came by in a rush, Alicia was seated beside Abby, her bandages being redressed with care. She wasn’t fond of people taking care of her in such a way, and would rather battle it out if she was being honest. But this was no small bruise, no feeble cut, it was a hole in her side, and to be quite frank, she don’t know what she would have done without Clarke’s mother.

Of course, her own mother was nurturing to a rather large extent, but she had barely seen her the past few days, pre-occupied with other things, things she could fix herself, like Nick, or Chris. She couldn’t fix Alicia, and the girl knew that it was most likely part of the reason she kept her distance when she could. Because she knew there was nothing that she could do for her, and it made her uneasy.

She didn’t mind, she supposed, she considered herself rather independent in fact even when people assumed the opposite. She was no damsel in distress, even if she did sometimes need saving. We all need to be saved sometimes, she thought.

The dressing became wrapped tightly around her side, restricting her movement somewhat, but doing its job nonetheless.

Abby stood up to take her leave, stepping closer to the door before Alicia spoke.

“Thank you. I..it means a lot.”

She turned and walked back further into the room.

“You know, Clarke hasn't really had that many people around her age to relate to in recent years. Part of me thinks that it’s because she’s never felt closer to anyone than her father, and another part thinks that maybe it’s just because she never found anyone worth holding on to since he passed. That reluctance seems to have faded since she met you.”

Alicia was stuck for words, what could you possibly say in response when someone had just opened up to you in such a way?

“She’s important to me too, and I'm not going anywhere.”

At first, Alicia wanted to say that she wasn't going to let her down, that she wasn't going to disappoint her like she had been disappointed in the past. But who could promise such a thing when we were all so flawed, all such let-downs ourselves?

People lived, and people breathed, we loved, we laughed, we died. And in the moments in between we found the people that truly meant a lot to us, we held on to them, we kept them near, but we hurt them too, and they hurt us back. A part of life that can hardly be avoided, it was a feeble promise to make.

So she simply wouldn't make it.  
                                                                                                             ****

  
The ink flowed on the page that day. There was so much to say, so much to talk about. When Clarke really thought about it, some things in life were rather beautiful. Some things were destructive, of course, but it truly put things into perspective.

 

~~_"Alicia is beautiful._ ~~

~~ Alicia is a shooting star. ~~

~~ I would save her from a burning building. ~~

Alicia Clark is a friend I wish to keep."

When the pen hit paper, she knew it had found its home. But truth be told, sometimes scribbles meant so much more than realities.


	16. We're All Just Poets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay everyone. I thought when I had my Christmas break I'd be posting every week, but things haven't been easy for me recently and I'm not using that as an excuse, I sincerely apologize. 
> 
> More of a filler chapter again, as obviously both Fear and the 100 are on hiatus. Just piecing together bits of fluff to expand upon the relationship that we're trying to build here.
> 
> I don't want to rush their development you see. I want it to be real, I'm sure you all do too!
> 
> Hopefully enjoy this short chapter? If not, I'll upload something more substantial soon.
> 
> Again, apologies.

If there was one thing Alicia hated, it was feeling powerless, like no one truly needed her because she simply had no use.

As she sat in bed, book in hand, listening to the group talk downstairs without her, planning their next supply journey, she felt pretty powerless.

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t in any position to be going with them. The pain was almost unbearable at times, and any strenuous activity would only open her wound up, and it wouldn’t be fair on Abby to have her stitch it up again and then re-bandage it.

It would just be nice to have people look at her like she could take on the world, because she could, she would, she will. Clarke looked at her like that, like there was no one braver, like if they were choosing teams, she’d pick her first.

And it had suddenly dawned on Alicia, that until now, despite her vast quantity of friends, that no one else would.

                                                                                                    ****

Clarke wasn’t going anywhere. Not after last time. She wasn’t scared of what might happen to her, but rather, scared of what was happening to everyone else.

If there was one thing to know about Clarke, it was this, she cared.

Maybe she cared too much, maybe it was a weakness more than a strength, but it was hers.

She made her way upstairs after telling the group that she would rather sit this one out, they didn’t seem to mind, in fact, if anything, they seemed relieved. Most likely because they thought she would be a liability. Though Clarke knew that was far from the truth, that she was just as strong as the rest of them, she would not argue.

The blonde sat on her bed, it was made, as it always was. Her father had also been a neat freak, and it was a trait she had learnt oh so well.

He had left pages and pages of legacies behind. Little pieces of him that made up a puzzle of memories and past actions, and she was still piecing parts of him together, but he would always be unfinished.

She pulled out her notebook, with just a few pages left, she deliberated all the important moments, willing them to come to the surface so that they could bleed onto the page.

But it was useless. Futile.

Clarke threw the book down onto the floor, and decided to lay down.

When she couldn’t write, she couldn’t think. When she couldn’t think, was she even alive?

 _We’re all poets_ she thought. _We all want our stories to come to light._

She drifted to sleep.

                                                                                                       ****

Alicia stood outside Clarke’s door, listening for any movement.

There was silence. Not even static.

She knocked regardless, thinking that someone as kind as Clarke would not mind if she was woken from her slumber.

Nothing at first, but only at first.

“…H..Hello?" Alicia could tell by the sound of Clarke’s voice that the girl was sleeping. Was.

She opened the door, noticing the light was off, and the curtains were drawn, she left it that way, for this was Clarke’s safe haven, not Alicia’s, and she was simply the guest.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Alicia said. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

Clarke wiped the sleep from her eyes, sitting up slightly and proceeding to lace her fingers through her hair, removing tangles that the journey of sleep had provided her with.

“No no, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not bothering you?” Alicia asked, skeptical.

“You’re never bothering me, Leesh. Sit down or whatever.”

She wasn’t sure why she did it, maybe because she had always been confident, maybe because she knew Clarke wouldn’t mind, maybe because she simply wanted to, she took the ‘or whatever’, and decided to take the other side of the bed beside the blonde, and lie down.

“How’s your wound?” Clarke asked, not seeming to mind that her bed now occupied two instead of one.

“Hurts.” Alicia replied.

“I expected as much.” The blonde smiled.

They remained in silence for a few minutes, but that was okay. It was okay because they had reached the point where their company was enough. Nothing more was needed. Just two bodies lying side by side, two separate vessels, needing something more than their own individual minds.

“What do you think you’d be doing now if none of this ever happened?” Alicia broke the silence.

Clarke paused for a moment. Biting her lip in concentration, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’d probably be sitting on my bed, doing homework I found far too easy, buying a new horse ornament from eBay for my collection, making homemade lemonade with my mom. It’ll be Christmas soon. And nobody gives a damn that I’m not doing my homework, buying horses, making lemonade. Because they’re all running underneath each other, wishing they could be back there too.”

“I do.” Alicia replied, simply.

“What?” Clarke was confused.

“I give a damn, that you’re not doing all those things. And just because you’re not doing them now, doesn’t mean you never will again.”

“I…thanks Leesh, I just don’t want to live out of suitcases forever, you know?”

“Nobody does, Clarke, nobody does.”

As they laid there, together, Alicia could not help but realize that for the first time, she felt belonging in every sense of the word. Maybe this was her safe haven too, as well as Clarke’s. _Sometimes you don’t realize how cold you are until you spend a moment in the warm_ she thought _._

That moment was upon her right now, crumbling around her like a loose foundation of bricks, and she welcomed it. 

The wreckage, the words like wet cement, dried around the silence that now enveloped the walls.

The two of them, all of them, living out of suitcases, waiting for the next big break, drowning in anticipation like a child on Christmas day.

Curtains closed, eyes even more so, breathing set in time like a metronome.

And the world fell asleep around them.

 

 


	17. Forbidden Satisfactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've always been completely honest with those who read this fic, and I'm still going to do that. Here's why the update took a while. The first reason is that I saw a post that Fear the Walking Dead made on a social media site depicting that the group actually got on Strands boat. Why was this a problem? Because I wrote in my fic that they decided not to thinking that would be the case in season two which hasn't happened yet. So I had to come up with a ridiculous story to bring Strand back, and have them board the boat.
> 
> I didn't explain why he came back, why? Because I don't know! We don't have season two and I'm stuck on how to make this fic relatable to the show when I don't know what might occur. 
> 
> So the chapters bad, awfully so. But I had to get it out of the way, and it took me ages to even bring myself to write it because I messed up so much. It was an important plot point to come and I screwed it. 
> 
> I didn't want to post this chapter because I hate posting things I'm not proud of, but because I messed up I just wanted this particular plotline out of the way. I can't be proud of this boat mess up no matter how much I try to dust it off. And that's why it's so incredibly short, because once this mess is out of the way I can focus on the story. You guys asked for fluff, I've attempted to include some despite having to progress the story rapidly.
> 
> I'd like to say that now this chapter is over, and we're back in line with the story, the content will be better, but here's the thing.
> 
> I'm not fishing for compliments when I say this, truly I am not, but recently I was reading someone else's fanfiction, and it was beautiful, so real you could frame it, and honestly it just made my writing feel like utter garbage and it destroyed my confidence to write. I'll still continue to write this fic, and if you want to stick around that's amazing. I don't know why you do when I've messed up so much, but I hope that I can maybe improve my writing and get this story on track and make it sound a lot more professional if I can. Because right now it's just a mess, and I'm sorry.

Waking up can sometimes feel like a mirage. Like you’re reaching out for something inside a dream only to find it is no longer there anymore, or that it never was. It was simply an indentation of the mind, willing itself to be made known, until you open your eyes, and suddenly it is gone.

As Alicia opened hers, with an arm of a girl wrapped around her like the branches of a tree, she knew that this was not the case in this moment. Clarke wasn’t a mirage, she wasn’t a dream. She was simply a girl.

And she was far from gone.

What an unfortunate circumstance, to meet under such conditions only to have them ripped apart by other means. When homework turned into bloodshed, when the bird-cage of a bed became a world that would never be freed inside a cage itself.

In another world they would be climbing on the same bus, greeting the driver before sitting down in their usual seat, Alicia imagined it would be somewhere near the front, Clarke’s choice of course. In another world they would be sitting on park benches feeding ducks and discussing television shows. In another world they would be elsewhere, anywhere but in the bed of a stranger, in a house that would never be home, in a reality that would never be safe for either of them.

It was sometime in the early hours of the morning, and the stars were attempting to shine through ungratified darkness of the pollution.

Clarke’s head had become buried into the crook of Alicia’s neck, and she smelt like sugar and soap, and conditioner and all things pleasant. Her fingers gently twitched in time with her breathing much like the whiskers of a cat deep in slumber.

Her inner psyche was dripping with words and feelings and images and all things bright like a flashlight through a sheet willing itself to be made known, willing itself to bleed out of the darkness.

Alas, the darkness would have to suffice for now, as a knock at the door swallowed the brightness around them.

The individual behind the door did not wait for an answer, a response, they simply opened it, revealing the two of them, side by side, sharing breath, warmth, sadness.

“The two of you need to get up, now, get ready, we’re leaving.” It was Travis.

His voice was stern, fast hitting, and like the end of a needle it stung. Though Alicia did not want to leave, she knew that wherever they went, as long as Clarke was beside her, she did not need bricks, or foundations. She did not need confinement.

The blonde woke up groggy and confused shortly after. Alicia took a step out of the bed, checking the clock on table beside it. It was late evening, and the two of them had slept for a considerable amount of time.

What was so urgent that they had to leave the warmth and safety of this house in the middle of the night?

She turned towards Clarke, smiling, before saying her temporary goodbyes.

“I’m just going to go get some clothes and get ready. I’ll see you soon.”

The blonde simply nodded, smiling in return, taking in the beauty of her almost forbidden satisfactions.

                                                                                                          ****

 

“Your bags packed? Good, move it, cmon, let’s go.” Travis’ voice was hoarse, tired and aimed in the direction of Alicia, Clarke, and Nick.

For he was never rough with Chris, not in this moment, not when everything had happened so suddenly.

Clarke fumbled with her belongings, ensuring everything that she had brought with her had found its home in her backpack again. She had decided long ago that the key to happiness was organization. The key to organization was to keep everything in order, whether it be the fusing’s of her memories or knowing the location of a simple Biro pen.

Stay organized, stay focused, stay happy.

The three of them followed the group and stepped outside onto the dock. And there stood Strand.

“I am incredibly pleased you have decided to join me, and I promise you, my search has not be in vain. There is a life for us out there, and I will show you.”

His words, so sure, and would Clarke dare say happy? Were the fusing’s of his mind as organized as Clarke’s? Did his backpack match hers?

It would be a new beginning, dare she say a new life? If one could be born again, Clarke was fairly sure that this is exactly what it would feel like. But reincarnation was supposedly a beautiful thing, though currently it felt like a wilting flower with nothing but dry dirt surrounding it, and there was no coming back from it. No water to tide it over.

The world had changed, she had changed, and the boat that they would now board was that of a new culture almost. A new territory.

But she wasn’t alone. She had her mother, she had Alicia, and she had her father’s watch.

One at a time, they would board the boat, and they wouldn’t look back. For the world had fallen around them and the people were too busy running underneath their own private reincarnations.

                                                                                                            ****

The house lay out of focus like rocks at the bottom of an ocean. And it swelled, and it burned into a mirage and suddenly it was gone.

It was a house, not a home. It had picture frames and posters but it no longer truly mattered. For a building was a building, and a person was a person, and like fresh matches both may break but only a person could spark the flames regardless.

Clarke was a flame, and Alicia had danced far too close to her warmth to turn back, and like a match she had broken.

She watched the water dance around the boat, blissfully unaware. And it didn’t know quite where they were headed, or where it should take them, but neither did she, so she decided she didn’t mind at all.

She would simply drift with it.


	18. Jack and Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So if you watch The 100 like myself, you will know that on March 3rd we all got our hearts broken. And I'm sorry about that. I know we deserved better. But there's nothing I can say.
> 
> I can't even begin to describe how disappointed I am, and I know most people who read this fic must be too. 
> 
> Everyone's been so upset by it, and it saddens me greatly to see such a wonderful range of incredible people feel so lost, so I thought I'd post a little fun chapter that I hope will make people smile even just for the time that they are reading it.
> 
> And yes, the reference you will see in this chapter is a creation from Eliza Taylor i.e. Clarke.
> 
> I hope everyone can overcome what happened in the show, and that we get a great season two of Fear the Walking Dead so that we can continue to enjoy Alycia as someone other than Lexa.
> 
> Reshop, Heda.

Clarke had never been one to enjoy the ocean, and as a matter of fact, it made her feel sick. Though the boat gracefully drifted across the water, to the blonde, it felt like they were in a pinball machine and she was the ball.

Alicia had soundlessly fallen asleep on the small dining chair that had been placed on the deck. It was a wonder to Clarke as to how one could fall asleep so easily at sea.

Her father had once taken her on a boat ride, and she was excited of course, as a child would be, how was tiny young Clarke supposed to know that she didn’t like boats, that she was scared of the sea?

How was Clarke supposed to know that she would once be travelling on one once again, and that this time her father would not be there to hold her hand?

She pulled out her sketchbook, anything to take her mind off the ocean, off the cool air, off her father. She glared at Alicia and the way her eyes slightly creased as she slept. She noted each and every detail, the way her breathing fell, the way her hair had become slightly disheveled from the wind, the way her hands lightly twitched on the corners of the chair as if she was holding herself onto it like she might fall.

And she drew.

The boat rocked ever so slightly, but the blonde did not notice, for her mind was captivated. Her thoughts tucked neatly into an envelope. And as the sun glared its way onto her page, as if it was watching her every detail, she knew she was doing something worthwhile. Something as pure and clear as the water beneath them.

The shading was off, and the ears she had drawn weren’t quite right, but in some ways she didn’t want the drawing to be perfect. She didn’t want the drawing to be the exact way she saw Alicia. Because if other people saw her how Clarke saw her then they might falter at the sight of her too. And as beautiful as that was, it wasn’t _their_ way of seeing her, it was _hers_ , and hers alone.

So they would look at her drawings, see her sketches, her designs, but it would be all they could see. Like looking into a mirror but not knowing quite what it would look like reversed. Like seeing your face in photos day in and day out but not knowing quite how people saw you, or quite how you looked in reality to someone else. Like Alicia was a human reflection and only Clarke could see the real thing up close.

For she believed that we all had our own private ways of seeing people. We may never know what that person did in the five minutes they went downstairs to the basement, or in that small gap between lunch at school, but in many ways it was beautiful. We see less of a person that we even think about, but that small segment is enough to make us love them.

_Love._

Love was a foreign concept to Clarke. She loved her father, and she loved her mother, she loved her old cat Snowball and when he died she was heartbroken.

But it wasn’t the same when you loved a person, loved the segments of another human as if without them you would surely perish.

For love was a beautiful thing and scary thing all at once. It was the car and the crash, the memory of the storm and the disaster itself, like dancing in the rain knowing you might get struck.

But she had never basked in it, she had been close, like looking out a window at the thunder but not touching the frame in fear of getting shocked.

Clarke had always seen love as a business deal of sorts. Like signing a contract. Despite knowing the power they have over you, you still give them your heart for the taking, in the hope that they will not break it. In exchange, they give you theirs, you shake hands, and you agree to do the best you can.

She decided she was wrong.

Love wasn’t a business deal, it wasn’t a trade of used goods. A heart may be used but it will never be secondhand.

And as Alicia lay slumped in that chair, she wondered if she was signing any contracts. If she was making any business deals.

Because Clarke believed she had already handed over the papers to Alicia.

Her heart wasn’t secondhand, but she decided it was best to give it away and feel the shock of the thunder and be modified by it, for better or worse. To be the book, and the library that burns.

The boat rocked considerably, and Alicia jolted awake, almost falling out of her chair.

The blonde darted up immediately, kneeling beside the chair, and taking the panicked girls hand and gently placing it in her own.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok, boat just rocked a little bit, that’s all, it’s not going to sink or anything.”

There was a slight pause.

“Well if it does are you going to be the Jack to my Rose?” Alicia smirked noticing the drawing on the chair opposite and nodding her head in its direction.

 _Crap._ Clarke had meant to close the sketchbook.

“Well, we are on a boat, but we could rename it something a little more fitting like The…”

“Don’t say it Clarke, don’t you say it.”

Clarke paused, smiling as she did so.

“The Bitanic.”

“I don’t know you” Alicia responded before laughing heavily.

“Fine, I’ll just take this drawing of you and throw it off the edge of the boat then because clearly you…”

Alicia interrupted Clarke before she could even finish her sentence.

“Give me the damn drawing, Jack Dawson.”

Clarke stared directly into Alicia’s eyes, before handing it over, a smirk on her face as she did so.

“That’s what I thought, Rose.”

They held hands in silence.

 


	19. Inject or Reflect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I promise promise promise there will be fluff and what have you soon. I just wanted to build some character development with other characters first, so this is quite a Nick chapter.
> 
> Please excuse any errors/things that don't make sense, I wrote this in a rather sleep deprived state.
> 
> Have a good day, folks!

Alicia leaned over the front of the ship, and spat.

“I’m a slob and even I know that’s disgusting.” Nick acknowledged.

“Just because you know you can’t spit farther than me.” Alicia smirked, spitting once again, only this time it flew much further, separating an impressively large distance from the boat.

“Really? You think that was good? I can do so much better than that. Just watch.”

He worked up a rather vile noise from his throat as he leaned back in order to gain momentum and thrusted forward as his spit flew in unison with his thin body, his saliva making quite an impressive distance, but not as far as Alicia’s.

“You’re all talk brother, all talk.” Her grin lighting up her features.

“I believe _Titanic_ scenes are our thing?” Clarke interjected.

Alicia wasn’t quite sure how long the blonde had been standing behind them, but judging by the comment, she had seen all of the spitting charade.

“She’s all yours, I don’t really want to hang around with someone who has such dirty habits.” Nick joked.

“You’re one to talk” Alicia responded, regretting the words immediately as they left her mouth. She had meant that he had also spat into the sea just as she had done, and that was his newfound dirty habit. But she knew instantly from the changing look on his face that he had assumed she meant something completely different.

Clarke stared awkwardly between the two of them, as Nick took his leave towards the other end of the boat.

“You know, you really have a way with words” Clarke stated matter of factly.

“Don’t joke about that, Clarke, please, not now.” Alicia stated stubbornly.

“Why? You just did. Joking about being a junky Leesh, that’s harsh even by my standards.” If Alicia was stubborn, Clarke was on another level, and there wasn’t a single fight she could remember losing.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, god, you think I’d say that to my own brother?” Her voice raised, her breathing untimely.

“I don’t know, do I? I guess I don’t know you well enough to say.” The blonde was honest.

“No, I guess you don’t.”

Alicia stormed off to the other end of the boat.

                                                                                                            ****

Clarke decided it was best not to follow. At least not yet. The two of them had spent so much time together recently that she decided it would be best to give the girl some space.

Arguing with her was never something intentional, and if she was being honest, she wasn’t quite sure where it had all come from.

She didn’t want to argue, not with anyone, and especially not Alicia. In this psychological headache of a future that had currently been laid out for them Alicia was the pill that numbed the ache.

Clarke looked out over the ocean, the great expanse beyond great expanses. She feared it, almost. The way it was unpredictable when the wind picked up, the creatures beneath it, and the bottom of its surface. Many nights she had dreamed that she was anchored to its floor, willing herself to break free, but when she did, the surface was simply too far away, and her oxygen depleted before she could even make it halfway.

But when she was around Alicia, when she was around that girl who would risk her life for that of a stranger, the oxygen in her lungs felt almost doubled, and the anchor not so tightly bound, maybe now she could make it to the surface.

                                                                                                            ****

It was around noon when Alicia simply sat on the decking of the boat, and sighed. The cool air tickled around her neck, and her arms displayed the faintest hint of goosebumps.

Her gaze remained on the sky, as if staring at it for long enough would bring it down to her, so that she could float among the clouds, and simply leave, if only for a little while, so that she could return as rain and regain her form once again. Her eyes led astray to a simple and slightly beaten radio to the left of her on the seat beside.

It seemed like natural instinct to her to place it on her lap, to retrieve the walkie talkie, to speak into it with a faint hello. To exist with others who didn’t live and breathe on this boat. To speak to another individual who didn’t know all of her secrets. To simply live. To be the rain and the one rained down upon.

Nothing, at first, but only at first. Because the voice on the other end, that gravelly voice of a young boy, young man, even, wanted to live and breathe elsewhere too.

It was strange, and ordinary at the same time that we as humans strive off others.

But life, was if anything, the strangest and most ordinary thing we’ve ever known. The only thing we've ever known.

Alicia did not hesitate to respond.

                                                                                                            ****

The guest bedroom was where Nick had found her, blinds closed, the dull room unexposed to the open sea air. Clarke’s breaths were shallow as she traced lines onto a page in the form of words. A stranger might mistake this small blonde girl for a contempt teenager, but Nick was not a stranger.

He did not know the girl’s favourite colour, or the way she liked her coffee. He didn’t know who her first love was, or what she wanted to be when she was ‘all grown up.’ But he knew that she was a survivor, he knew her in the ways that screamed ‘I would die for what I believe in’ and in many ways, that was far more important than what her favourite animal was, or whether she liked to collect coins, or broken hearts.

He sat beside her on the bed, and at first he could have sworn that Clarke was simply deciding to pretend she had not acknowledged his presence, until her voice that was croaky from lack of speech came into play.

“I suppose Alicia sent you here” was all she said, as she continued to write onto her page as if she hadn’t said a word at all, and Nick was beginning to think he had imagined the whole thing.

He paused, until she broke the silence once again.

“It’s ok, you can tell me if she did, I won’t be mad.” For the first time, she looked at him, acknowledged that he was there, so he knew that it was real.

“She didn’t. Just figured you could use a friend” he stated plainly.

“Are we? Friends, that is” Clarke remained impassive.

“I mean, I guess so, if you want to be, I mean, you’re practically dating my sister so I figured I should make the effort to break the acquaintance boundary.” Nick began to gesture with his arms, of a boundary being smashed, before grinning and slouching, becoming more comfortable in his actions, in himself.

Clarke simply laughed.

“We’re not dating, we’re not anything” the blonde said matter of factly.

“She’s a tough one, isn’t she?” Nick glared.

Clarke replied with a nod.

“Don’t give up on her” Nick continued. “She’s difficult but worth the prize, I promise.”

“I won’t” said Clarke.

The boy who had once injected needles simply smiled at Clarke, for a hug was too soon, before taking his leave, and leaving the blonde to scribe circles in the dark, both unsure of when the light would finally be let in.

 


	20. Flowers For Your Loved Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there, rather long chapter here for you folks, but first, let me explain it.
> 
> If anyone is still actually reading this god forsaken story, some of you will be mad, some of you will not. (Hopefully anyway) 
> 
> I have decided, for now, I will be shifting from the FTWD plot.
> 
> Alas, do not despair, I will follow it loosely. 
> 
> Why you ask? The reason is solely that my fic needs to speed things up, it needs to get things going, I don't want to bore you guys and I feel like if I continue to go the way I am going, I will do just that.
> 
> It's making me feel ashamed of my work, and think this is the best way to not feel like that. If that makes any sense.
> 
> This story still needs a lot of work, and I promise I will try my best to get out of this slump I'm having.
> 
> So here is an altered turn of events.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Sorry if it's kinda rushed, like I get that a lot happens in such a short period of time, and I should have made it two chapters, but I don't know. I'm silly. I'll try and get better at that.
> 
> Oh and one more apology, please excuse any errors. I wrote this in a rather sour/sleep deprived mood and it probably makes little to no sense in quite a few places. 
> 
> (With an appearance of yet another character from The 100)
> 
> P.S. Speaking of I hope you enjoyed the finale if you saw it! Lexa's exit was the greatest exit I have ever seen in TV history! No character will ever get my heart racing like she did.

It was evening when Clarke found her. The frail girl on the deck. The wind had settled, and the blonde had hoped the girl had too. For in this world that had nothing left, the girl was something. The two of them were something.

She sat down beside her, praying that the girl would remain seated next to her. That she would not leave now the presence of another occupied the air. She decided that she should have thought about what she was going to say before coming here, before finding the pained girl, for she had nothing to ease her sorrow with except herself.

“Why, why did you use the radio?” Clarke enquired, her mind restless.

“If you really need me to answer that, you aren’t the person that I thought you were” Alicia glanced at the blonde for just a moment, her eyes resting on her graceful features, fallen away to tiredness.

“Who do you think I am?” Clarke had to know.

“A person who cares” Alicia replied.

A stranger. A passing stranger. You blink and they’re gone. They’re in the backs of photographs, and your eyelids when you dream. They’re in harbors and grocery stores and they’re buying flowers for their loved ones and flowers for their dead ones.

And Alicia had discovered this one. This stranger. This particular passing stranger. This concept of a concept on a radio. A voice, a homeless noise. A voice she had given safe passage too. A voice she wasn’t sure she could trust.

But if she knew one thing, if she knew anything it at all, it was this. People are helpless and people are hopeless but people are also wonderful and great. Exuberant and real. People need aid and shelter and love and happiness.

And she would never be one to deny an individual of such a gift.

It was just another day on shore. Just another passing moment on the clock. Another wave, another twisted sail, another taste of salt.

And then there was Clarke. Another stranger come acquaintance come friend come the never-ending possibility of something more. A spark that had yet to be ignited like gasoline long left on the pavement of an abandoned building left only to dry. A safe passage on a harbor.

She didn’t know Jack. She didn’t particularly know Clarke. But the possibility of learning to know the latter was something she could not ignore. And in turn, she could not ignore the girl that had meant so much to her in these passing weeks.

But then the lights came in. A bright beam shining directly on the boat, lighting up its two outside inhabitants.

Before they knew it, the group had joined them outside, following the light directly to a small beaten up house on an island particularly close to them.

Maybe this was their chance. Maybe this was where they were supposed to be in that moment.

Alicia glared at Clarke, and smiled, a silent sentence, as if to say 'it's alright, we're alright.'

They were to head to an island, to find that beacon of light both metaphorical and physical, to find their shelter, their love, their happiness. But it was selfish to think that once all their woes had been solved, that the world would somehow seem right. That children weren’t dying, when people were no longer people, they were monsters in human uniform, and it could not be ignored, wherever they decided to go.

And now they were outside, just under half an hour later, in the cold, the boat to their backs, as they trawled up a hill to a house. A house most likely occupied by those who had either ignited themselves or burned out. Or just more leaking gasolines.

After a small hill, they arrived at the house that had sent that terrific beam of light, it was worn down and old, and Travis was too. He took the first words. That leap of faith with the fear that no one would answer. With the fear that someone would.

“We know you’re scared. We are too. We just need information. We’re not a threat. We’re not sick. We need help” he exclaimed.

Silence at first. But only at first. Because people were wild and unpredictable and all things spontaneous. And just like that, a door opened, revealing a young boy with blonde hair.

A child, a child amongst the chaos and the wreckage.

His hair was disheveled, his face dirty and unwashed. He was malnourished, and tired looking.

“What’s your name, kid?” Nick enquired.

“Aden. Who are you?” The blonde boy nodded his head in Nick’s direction, almost forcing him to keep up the conversation.

Alicia’s brother walked over to the boy, kneeling down, and held out his hand.

“Nick. My names Nick.” Nick smiled.

The boy did not smile back.

“You’re not alone out here, are you? You know, all by yourself?” Nick had to ask.

“Depends what you mean by alone. Sometimes there’s company” Aden’s face remained passive, unreadable.

“What do you mean by that?” Nick’s tone began to change from pleasant to worried.

“The dead have awoken, and now they never sleep.”

                                                                                                              ***

The child eventually let them all in. Clarke led the way, with Travis in back, closing the door behind him.

“Would you like to see my room?” Aden asked, leaving the invite open to all.

Alicia nodded, taking the boy by the hand and letting him lead her up the stairs.

As they entered the room, she took in the sight of it all. The beams on the ceiling, keeping the house together. The scatter of toys lining the shelves, as if you could look away and suddenly they would to come to life.

And she thought about herself, and the world she inhabited. Would the beams still be intact? Would the scatter of plastic people remain static, or would they simply form into something else?

Maybe they had already, now that the dead weren’t so dead anymore.

She had to snap out of it, she couldn’t let this new life become everything. And so she maintained the act of normalcy, a performance she knew oh so well.

“Whoa, your room is amazing! And so huge too!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big, you could sleep in here if you want tonight, I take top bunk though. At least, I usually get to take it.”

Alicia pondered, she guessed that the child might be rather scared to live here alone, and it would only be right that she stayed with him tonight so that he had at least some normalcy of his own. Security if only for now.

“Sure bud. What do you mean by you usually get to take top bunk? Did you have guests once upon a time?” Alicia enquired.

“I still do” the child replied calmly.

Alicia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but decided to ignore the statement. He probably had imaginary friends and in a world like this, he probably needed them too.

For his real friends were probably fighting for their lives right now. Or worse, they were dead.

She made the bed she would be sleeping in, and she made the bed she would not.

The normalcy remained acted as always.

                                                                                                              ***

Clarke rummaged through the cupboards downstairs. No wonder this kid was malnourished; it was clear he had been rationing his food. He was smart, and the blonde was not surprised that he had managed to survive.

It was late, and the rest of the group had gone to bed, sleeping on sofas, floors, whatever was available. Travis and Madison had taken the floor also, for they perceived it to be rude and an insult to sleep in Aden’s parents bed when they were no longer here. God knows where they were. If God was really out there.

She closed all the drawers silently, as not to wake the group, before grabbing a few cushions and placing them on the floor beside the fireplace that had clearly not been used in a while.

Resting her head against them as she lay, the world went black around her.

                                                                                                               ***

“I told you the dead never sleep.”

Alicia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, a boy, a young boys voice. Aden’s.

As her eyelids opened slowly, she saw not one figure stood beside the bed, but two. Two without a doubt.

One of them.

It was one of them.

A living breathing mark of death. The dead itself.

“Aden get back! Aden get back now!” She jumped out of the bed, darting towards the boy, taking him in her arms and sprinting out of the room, and down the stairs. She didn't look back, she couldn't look back. 

“You’re safe, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe.” She placed him on the sofa, moving his blonde locks from his forehead and out of his eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” Travis. Thank god for Travis.

“There’s one of them, upstairs, in Aden’s room. I ran. I didn’t know what to do. I…” Alicia lost her words.

Travis didn’t respond before grabbing his shotgun, running up the stairs, running to the fear.

By now the group had awoken, and Clarke and Chris had followed Travis up the stairs, providing him with some sort of backup incase the worse were to happen, whilst the rest remained downstairs.

Aden didn’t seem to be scared at all. His breathing remained calm as he simply stared at the girl before him in an almost intrigued manner.

“How did he even get in here? What happened?” Alicia asked.

“I let him in. I had to let him in.” Calm and collected yet again.

“Why would you do that?! Don’t you know what can happen to you if you get close to someone like that? You don’t know what they are capable of!” Alicia could hardly contain her anger. She was not angry at him, or even his obliviousness. But he had to learn if he was going to survive this new found world.

“Things like this can happen.” The boy lifted one of his sleeves, revealing a sizeable bite on his arm.

Alicia gasped in horror, taking a step back, the tears formed but they didn’t come, and she could not decide whether she wanted them to or not.

“It’s okay” Aden assured her. “That man upstairs is my father, and this is how we can be together aga…”

A gun shot.

A simple gun shot and a drop to the floor upstairs.

Travis had killed Aden’s father.

For the first time, Aden did not remain neutral.

                                                                                                            ***

“Dad!” The boy leapt up the stairs like a bullet out of a gun. Like the bullet out of Travis’ gun.

Alicia raced after him, followed by Nick, she had to tell them, she had to tell them that there would come a time where Aden was no longer himself.

The child dropped to his knees, taking his father’s face in his hands, placing his arms around his torso, wanting to be held. So desperately wanting to be held.

Though the child was infected, Alicia could simply not stand and watch as he tore himself apart from the inside, mentally breaking his walls, his vessel, his inner being. She kneeled down next to him, taking him in her arms.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“The kids infected, get the hell away from him Alicia what do you think you’re doing!” Nick’s voice raised and panicked.

“Alicia is this true? Step away from the kid! Now!” Travis did not hesitate before he began to pry the two apart, panicking Aden even more so.

“He’s fine now, he’s not hurting me, he’s just a kid, Travis!” Alicia would shout back, and twice as loud.

Before she knew it, before she could take back her words, the child began to convulse, his limbs shifting into incredible and impossible positions.

“What do I do here, Travis, tell me now” Chris’ eyes grew wide as he witnessed the child become something other than a child.

Travis remained silent, his eyes locked on the boy.

“Don’t kill him, we can’t kill him! He’s just a kid! You can’t!” Alicia protested.

She didn’t care if she would have to stand in the way of them, if it meant her flesh became mauled, teeth marks digging into her like a crown of thorns. She would protect this child, even if he was no longer one, and never would be one again.

“Give me a better solution here Alicia. And fast. I’m not seeing any other options right now” Chris gritted his teeth in frustration.

She paused, hesitant. There was not a single idea she could think of to save this boy now.

For he could not be saved. He could never be saved.

“We leave him here. We leave him on this goddamn island and we don’t look back.”

“What if he hurts someone Alicia, what if he kills someone?” Nick wanted to side with her, he always did, but this couldn’t be the right thing to do, could it?

Chris began to tie the boy’s arms together before he became too difficult to manage, then his legs, taping over his mouth in turn to protect the inhabitants of the child’s room.

Alicia was at an edge, and she was falling. She did not know what she could say. She did not know what she could do. This child was dead, and he would die once again. Like reincarnation for a funeral.

But she did not need to speak before someone interjected.

“What if we hurt someone? What if WE kill someone else tonight? We’ve already killed this boy’s father. Are we any better?” Clarke reasoned.

The group took glances at each other, like peering into the soul but never truly seeing through the curtain, before a silent decision was made.

“We leave the kid here, we don’t look back” and just like that, Travis exited the room, exited the house, the island. The island that would never be their sanctuary.

Alicia turned to the boy, and simply stared, gulping back the tears she knew she would eventually find. He was a boy, he was a vessel, he was an empty theatre, center stage, and he had taken his final bow.

“I’m so sorry, Aden. I’m so sorry things turned out this way. And I’m sorry about your father. I would have taken you with me, I promise" her voice rigid, she decided it was time that they follow Travis.

They made their way out in turn, before Alicia halted Clarke for just a moment, gently grabbing her by the arm.

“Thank you, Clarke. You saved him.”

The blonde nodded in agreement.

But had he truly been saved? Had anyone?

                                                                                                             ***

What was all of this. A disaster, a house in a tornado. A ruined canvas in an abandoned art gallery. Alicia was looking out from inside that house, at the galleries before her.

And all of them dripped with guilt.

Back on the boat, she cried. She had composed herself long enough for the rest of the group to head inside before she broke down on the deck, staring into the dark expanse beyond.

She heard footsteps. Light, steady. So familiar to her. Clarke.

As Alicia dropped, and the thunder roared, the blonde dropped with her, always dropping with her. Two vessels, bright and small, burning bright and fast, and if you glanced only slightly you could mistake them for passing stars. Faded and beautiful.

Clarke took the girls head in her hands, stroking her face, her lips, her hair, everywhere. She took her in, the sight of her, she drank it, she bathed in it. Everywhere. And no one existed. Not now. Not in this moment. Not the earth, not the stars, not the people tucked away in their harbours. In her own sanctimony, she breathed her in. And they were nowhere. They were everywhere. They were no one, and they were everyone. And nobody cared about the two girls who never needed each other and suddenly did. But it didn’t matter. For they did not care that no one cared. For they did not care either where they were when a million different people were running underneath them, chasing buses once upon a time. Collecting toys of horses. Playing Monopoly. Being the car.

And as she cupped that girls face, as her eyes lingered on her lips, wanting, needing, longing, the temptation simply came to be too much, and she kissed her like she had never kissed anyone before. Like she would never kiss anyone again. Like she never needed to so long as she had this.

She would always have this.

Because people were everywhere, and people were nowhere. And people bought flowers and lived in harbours. But they also knelt on decks and kissed pretty girls and fell in love slowly and quickly all at once.

The gasoline that once lined the pavement sparked inside the two of them, and they savoured the warmth as their lips remained locked, their bodies intertwining as one. One unit. One person. Two stars.

As the kiss broke, the match remained, lit and alive, always alive now, never dormant.

And they stared at each other, neither willing to look away. For the both of them feared that if they were to do so, it would be over.

They had this moment. That was all they knew. And whether they would have this moment again was another matter indeed.

As their bodies remained locked together on the ground, like a padlock to a gate, the insecurity of the world around them disappeared, and they remained unrestrained by its burdens. For now, if only for now.

Because people were nowhere. And people were everywhere. And you didn’t get a second to think about either.

Alicia was no longer acting.

 


	21. The Calm

_Amongst the wreckage is disease. A walking diathesis._

_And yet here I am with you._

_Burnt cars, acid rain, bloody hands, we sleep and bask in it all._

_The sun sets, I am here. The night passes. We remain._

_Infected with something people cannot explain, they roam._

_And yet here I roam with you._

Clarke awoke to a light thrum on the window pane of an illuminated bedroom, the rain telling her it was time to be alive again. That it was time to face another day. She turned over to the other side of the bed, reaching out for something, for someone, though the space that occupied was empty. Air and covers, nothing more.

The night before, Alicia was in her arms, safe, sound, alive like the thrum of the windows. Today, she was gone, the sunlight her only company.

She roamed alone.

_They held hands in silence, with a mutual disregard for that impending moment of separation. When they knew that there would in fact be a time when they were apart, facing the world, the disease. For just then, if only for then, they could be oblivious to it all. The end, the beginning of the end, and all that inhabited the middle._

_The deck was cold, the air even more so, the two of them edged closer together, their shivers and tight breaths in unison to one another. Their bodies tightly wound like the hands of a clock meeting at midnight._

_Alicia stared at the moon, then at Clarke, then at the moon again. For it was a beautiful thing to know that wherever you had been in the world, wherever you would be, wherever you said your final words, left your last remaining breath, the moon would witness it all, and you would witness it._

_It was almost selfish that two beings frail and small wanted to be something so big and so immense. Wanted to feel something magnificent amongst the death and abandoned hope._

_But they did, and they would, and the inevitability of it was what made it so beautiful._

_Clarke stroked the girls face, a tear in her eye, no words needed to be exchanged, for the shaking of her hands said enough, the trembling of her lips, it said plenty. It said it all._

_They stood up together, and for a while, on the deck they were two people who needed each other, who decided that it would be simpler to accept this world together than it would to accept it apart. And in the times that would come to be afterwards, they would be the same that they had always been. They would remain in secret for now, and only for now, until the pleasant weight became simply too much to hold._

_Their hands still linked, they went inside to Clarke’s room. They brushed their teeth together, changed into nightwear together. It was all so normal, so unabashedly normal._

_Side by side, they slept. Bodies linked, hands wrapped around each other like the limbs of trees. Clarke dreamed._

_Amongst the wreckage is disease._

Clarke took a sip of water from the nightstand, before heading down the hall to Alicia’s room. She could hear the faint sound of the shower, and decided not to knock.

She turned around, making her way back to her room.

“Thank you.” A male voice. Nick’s.

The blonde turned around, confused, expectant of what, she wasn’t sure.

“For what?” She asked.

“For not giving up on her” was all he said, before making his way back down the corridor, and outside to the deck where just the night before two girls had cried in each other’s arms.

                                                                                                              ***

Today, Clarke, Chris, Nick and Travis were to go on a supply run. It was only Abby’s natural motherly instinct that led her to asking her daughter to stay on the boat, but when Clarke declined, Abby understood. For she had raised this girl to be a hero, she had raised her to want to be something more. Always wanting the vastness of an adventure. It would be unfair to curse that willingness she had given her.

For some, the world was in beige, plain, simple, safe. For Clarke it was red, it was dangerous and she embraced it.

Abby had raised her well.

They were to go to a nearby plane that had crashed in hopes for first aid, some food, and possibly even survivors amongst the wreckage.

Clarke was reluctant to leave Alicia behind, for they had yet to discuss the events of the previous night, not that she thought it would need discussing. The two no longer had to formulate sentences to understand each other more clearly. It was simply the lingering possibility that they were now something more that weighed on the back of Clarke’s mind like a pleasant migraine. But it was also the pounding headache, the possibility that Alicia only kissed her back because she was in desperate need of comfort after witnessing the death and rebirth of Aden.

She would leave these thoughts at bay for now, for her head needed to be in the game, in the fight, in a different possibility. The possibility that she would encounter trouble, and that she would have to tackle it, lest she ever find out which possibility she had with Alicia.

These things aside, the girl would be safe here, and Clarke’s mother, Abby, would look out for her. The blonde thought back to earlier encounters that involved Alicia, a knife, and an open wound. The thought of it almost made her nauseous.

She would not let it happen again.

Clarke placed her backpack over her shoulder, its contents mostly empty save for a water bottle and a weapon. If they were to find supplies, they would need all the room they could get.

Unfortunately, an empty backpack was not the worst case scenario, for an open wound was. Or worse, a death. A massacre. A disease.

She pushed the thoughts aside once again.

As they made their leave, preparing to exit the boat, the blonde turned around to see Alicia a mere few feet away.

Clarke wasn’t positive, in fact, she may have imagined it, but she could have sworn that the girl mouthed three words, three simple words.

‘Come home safe.’

Those words would keep her going. Like an unspoken promise she was destined to keep.

She nodded, leaving the boat in silence.

                                                                                                             ***

The night was uncharacteristically cold, and could not be defined by previous acts of pleasant weather. Alicia wondered if it was because it knew. That the air had the knowledge that people she cared about were out there, that they might not be coming back tonight. That they might not be coming back at all.

She sat on the deck, her knees pressed to her chest, her chin resting gracefully on top of them. If she cut off her other senses and closed her eyes, she could smell the faint hint of rain in the air, a sign of what was to come, but she did not get up to leave, awaiting the storm.

It was Abby who found her. Alicia realized the two of them had not had much of a conversation in the previous weeks. She decided she had been ungrateful, rude even, knowing that Abby had saved her life only to ignore her afterwards was much unlike herself. She was uncharacteristically cold like the impending rain.

As the woman sat beside her, it became apparently quickly and clearly that she was worried about her daughter, incredibly so in fact. For she could not blame her, she was worried herself.

“Clarke will be fine. She always is.” Alicia did not know who she was trying to convince, Abby, or herself.

“She’s so much like her father” Abby responded, sighing out a breath she had been holding for far too long if the movement in her body was any indication.

“I wish I could have met him.” Alicia meant this, and she hoped the woman before her deemed it to be true. She wished she could have seen just how truly Clarke was like her father, and her father like Clarke.

“He was a good man” was all she said, as she looked out into the open sky, the stars hidden behind the pollution. Alicia wished she could hide with them sometimes.

“I’m sure he was, if he was anything like Clarke.” The moments the two of them shared had been secret, special, their own sanctimony. Whilst they had seen the masterpiece crafted before them, so beautiful in design, everyone else had merely seen the frame. Alicia was giving Abby just the slightest look into the inner psyche of their meshed memories, and Abby, if anything, seemed grateful.

Abby smiled at the young girl who she had once saved, and thought about how in turn, this girl had saved her daughter.

The smile quickly evaporated, however, when both Alicia, and Abby were stared down by the barrel of a gun.

“You two, up, now, and don’t ask questions.”

The both of them did as told.

Alicia stared at the moon, willing Clarke to look at it too, and run in the other direction.

But the moon did not look back.

The storm had arrived.


	22. Cigarettes and Whiskey

Clarke drank the last of her water before she witnessed the scattered debris of metal and glass around her. The plane had crashed fast, and hard, that was clear, and any survivor would have long passed by now. The ones who died first, in the midst of the crash, were the lucky ones.

Day had evaporated into night, the cool air keeping her awake as she plodded into the wreckage and havoc around her.

“Careful” Nick warned, following after her.

The blonde obliged, her steps cautious as she pulled away the black rusted door to the plane. It ripped apart from its counterpart, making a rather tremendous thud on the floor as it rattled the ground around her.

If they were alone, after such a noise, it was doubtful they would be soon.

Clarke stared at the moon.

                                                                                                         ***

Alicia trembled.

With fear, or cold, she could not be sure. Possibly a mixture of the two, like vodka and ice, and she was drunk from it. So much so that she could vomit. The gag surrounding her mouth the only thing stopping her from doing so.

She has seen this in movies, on television shows, read about kidnappings in books and in newspapers. But it was easier to believe it as fiction, easier to believe that everyone around her was human mannequins living in cardboard houses, and silver screens. Not real, not quite. A form made only true by the untrained eye, whilst to others it was vivid.

Now here she sat, on the cold hard decking, gag in her mouth, this illusion all too real. The group had been rounded up, or what was left of it. Madison, Abby, Strand, Ofelia, Daniel, herself.

She could have sworn she heard these strangers, these attackers, say that ‘they were lucky only the weaker ones were left onboard, the boat would be easier to take this way.’

Alicia had grimaced, for she did not perceive herself to be weak at all. She wasn’t weak.

Part of her wished that Nick would come back, and knock them off the boat, that Chris would pull out a gun and blow them away, that Travis would tell them to leave before they regretted their actions, or that Clarke would come back, knife in hand, come at the assailants, tear them limb from limb, and then run over to Alicia, breathing rugged, remove her gag and kiss her like she had the night before.

Another part of her, a larger part perhaps, wished that they would stay away. For they deserved so much more than to die on some boat.

But then she looked at her mother, noticing that the woman had not taken her eyes of her daughter. Not once. Both gagged, bound, making contact only through each other’s pupils.

And she would do anything for the rest of the group to come back and save her. Because her mother was worth saving. Even if Alicia felt that she herself was not.

That’s when she heard it, that voice, that homely voice. A voice that could only belong on the other side of a radio. But somehow it had travelled. At first she thought someone she knew was asking for help on the radio, only to find that familiar voice on the other side. But no one could ask for help now. And the voice belonged to a man who was now only inches away from her.

Jack.

"Hello, Alicia. So nice to finally meet you." He smirked.

                                                                                                        ***

Clarke instantly regretted drinking the last of the water when all to be found in the wreckage was a couple of bandages, some cigarettes, and a bottle of Jack Daniels that was somehow still intact. Alas, it would hardly quench her thirst, and the possibility of coming across a walker whilst intoxicated, though humorous, was an abhorrent idea.

Nick picked up the bottle and surveyed its prospects in his hand before opening its seal and taking a swig of its contents. Once a sizeable amount of the whiskey had gone, he handed it over to Clarke, who took a single sip of the burning liquid. It had felt like a lifetime since she had last drunk any alcohol, whilst most had cast her off as the quiet and secluded type, she did like her booze, and occasionally the odd cigarette, and therefore she decided to pocket them.

When the two of them had come to the conclusion that there was no longer anything to salvage, they left the wreckage in silence.

Clarke stared at the moon.

                                                                                                         ***  
In just a few moments, it had become abundantly clear what Jack and his crew were after. They wanted the ship, and they were prepared to do just about anything in order to claim it.

Alicia looked into the eyes of the boy she had spoken to on the radio, and it seemed as if there was almost nothing there. She searched for remorse, for guilt, for a sign that this man did in fact have a heart, that he wasn’t just another mannequin, a paper man, that he wasn’t simply going to attach rocks to their person, throw them off board and leave them to drown, alas, she saw nothing. Because nothing was there.

Because war changes people. It makes the kindest of hearts dissolve into blackness. Alicia could never be sure if Jack's kindness was an act, or if a former self, a self that existed before the apocalypse decided to shine through, illuminating the blackness like the stars in the sky. Like the moon as two people stared into its brightness, willing their counterpart to find them. But his stars had burnt out and his spark had died. And Alicia mourned his ambiguous loss. For the losses of all. 

He flung his gun over his shoulder, pulling a knife out in turn in which he twirled around his fingers like a common circus act. Alicia could find it almost comical. Almost.

What wasn’t comical was his next approach, as the knife he wielded in his palm came into contact with Madison’s throat. Alicia wanted to cry out, she wanted to scream until her lungs burnt out. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Because nothing was there. She wasn’t sure if it was the gag, or pure defeat.

He slowly began to cut through her neck, the blood from her body lining the floor like some warped canvas, cut any deeper he might kill her and-

“Jack, what the hell is that? Infected?” One of Jack’s cronies pointed to the beach where they had docked.

A faint shadow in the distance, a wave of blonde shaggy hair. Coming closer, closer still. The shadow was running. The shadow had a name.

Clarke.

Alicia did not feel so defeated anymore. Hands and legs bound, she bolted towards Jack.

And suddenly, a gun shot sounded, and a body hit the ground. 


End file.
